


Learning to Breathe

by EclecticMuse, Traviosita9124



Series: starting over [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Smut, Trauma and recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:34:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 137,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/pseuds/EclecticMuse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Traviosita9124/pseuds/Traviosita9124
Summary: In the wake of being dumped at the bottom of the Atlantic, Leo Fitz faces a long road to recovery. Fortunately, he has Jemma by his side for support. But it won't always be easy, and forces from both within and outside S.H.I.E.L.D. seem to be conspiring to keep them apart. The line between the oath they swore to the agency and the promises they made to each other is starting to blur, but it may be too late to escape with their lives before they lose each other for good. A season 2 AU and sequel to Begin Again.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Series: starting over [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835743
Comments: 153
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Traviosita and I (EclecticMuse) are back with a sequel to our fic Begin Again. This is a re-imagining of season 2 if Fitz and Jemma were already in a relationship and how that might have changed key events up. We hope you enjoy. Chapters will be uploaded twice a week on Tuesdays and Fridays. Come visit us as mrsleopoldfitz and eclecticmuses on Tumblr in the meantime!

The days that followed her rescue from being dumped in the ocean were the worst of Jemma Simmons’ life.

All of her hours were spent at Fitz’s bedside. She refused to leave, not for anything. She was too afraid that if she did, she might miss any change in his condition, for better or worse. So she kept vigil in the cramped plastic chair next to his bed, either holding his hand in between hers and watching him, or reading on her tablet. She was doing all the research she could on the effects of lack of oxygen to the brain, preparing herself for every possible outcome of the trauma Fitz had gone through. If he’d suffered brain damage, no matter how great or slight, she wanted to be ready to assist him through his recovery, armed with all the knowledge available to make it as easy as possible for him.

Skye dropped by as often as she could; she was helping Coulson get the new base up and in running order, and that involved a lot of computer work. At first she tried talking to Jemma, trying to be as light-hearted and funny as she could, telling her about Billy Koenig’s increasingly ridiculous demands per their lanyards, or reminiscing about silly things Fitz had done on the Bus, but she stopped when she noticed Jemma’s eyes glossing over. She wasn’t ready to talk as though Fitz were gone, like they were reliving the memories of someone who had left them. So Skye stuck to giving her updates on the base, and eventually only kept her company, bringing her laptop and working in silence, providing companionship the best way she knew how.

It was Trip who convinced her to eat, bringing offerings from the kitchen and threatening to eat junk food himself if only she would just take a bite of the chicken curry he’d cooked especially for her. She managed a little of it, trying to smile when he looked very pleased with himself, but it felt forced and strained. He brought in a cot for her later that night, saying if she didn’t want to go back to her bunk to sleep, then at least she could have a more comfortable place to kip than the hard plastic chair she was living in.

She never took the cot, but she was grateful for his thoughtfulness all the same.

May was a less frequent visitor, and she hardly ever spoke, but she was a more comforting presence than Jemma would have expected. She would come in and sit on the opposite side of Fitz’s bed from her and just watch him. Sometimes she sat with her eyes closed and Jemma wondered if she was meditating. But before she left, she always laid a hand on Jemma’s shoulder, and gave her the faintest hint of a smile.

Coulson almost never came, but she didn’t begrudge him that. She knew he had more than enough going on trying to get S.H.I.E.L.D. back up and running after Hydra had torn it apart, and she appreciated what time he was able to spare for them. He always looked so grim and full of regret, gazing at Fitz almost like a father would a son. He’d ask Jemma for any updates on his condition, what his prognosis was, and would nod, troubled, when she answered that it hadn’t changed.

It was Coulson who had gone to Scotland to tell Fitz’s mother personally what had happened. He’d given Jemma the option to go as well, since she knew Fitz best and had actually met his mum before, but she had been too terrified to leave Fitz’s side. Naturally, his mother had not taken the news well. Fitz was her only child and they had always been close; it killed her that her son was so sick and she couldn’t come to the Playground to be with him. Coulson had promised to keep her updated on his progress as often as they could, if anything changed at all, and that that was the best they could do.

A part of Jemma had wanted to call Fitz’s mum to talk to her herself, to reassure her that Fitz was being well taken care of, but mostly she was afraid. How could she talk to her, when it was her fault that Fitz was in a coma? How could she face her when she hadn’t done enough to save her son?

The guilt was quietly eating her alive. Those last few moments in the pod kept playing over and over in her mind--how Fitz had looked at her, and held her, and said he’d loved her. She hadn’t said it back. She hadn’t said it at all, in the pod. How could she not have said it? What if he didn’t know? What if he slipped away now, and she’d tried to save him for nothing, and he died without knowing that she loved him with all her heart, so much that it physically ached?

She found herself saying it a lot when she was alone with him. She’d hold his hand in hers, the one not in a cast, and whisper it, over and over. “I love you. I love you. Fitz, I love you.” She’d brush kisses against his forehead or his temple, or against his cheek after the one time she carefully shaved his face for him on the sixth day, knowing he liked to stay well-groomed, and say it again. “I love you.” It was like she thought that if she said it enough, thought it enough, he might actually wake up and smile at her, and say it back.

He never did. 

By the time the ninth day rolled around, Jemma knew she was starting to unravel. She was pale and unkempt, dark circles smudged beneath her eyes. She’d barely eaten in days. The words on her tablet in her lap were starting to blur together in front of her, so after a few moments, she set it aside with a sigh, and looked at Fitz again. As always, he hadn’t moved. He just looked like he was peacefully asleep. The doctors had removed his breathing tube that morning, judging him able to breathe on his own. It didn’t seem like a big thing, but she counted it as a major victory. It was just one more step toward him hopefully waking up and coming back to her.

She took his hand again, and leaned forward to press a kiss to the back of it. “I love you,” she murmured. It was her mantra. Then, scooting forward, she rested her face on the mattress next to his hand. “Please wake up. I promise I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t say that to you, before.”

Fitz’ world was filled with fuzzy dreams, general impressions of being surrounded and smothered that he couldn’t quite escape, no matter how hard he tried. The only relief came when he slipped back under again, with everything going dark to the point that he was able to simply drift, unaware of anything or anyone around him. 

Sometimes, he dreamt of Jemma. He saw her face, eyes bright with tears, and the way her mouth quivered as she spoke to him. He couldn’t quite make out the words, but he knew she was sad. Her desolation tugged at him, but try as he might Fitz couldn’t fix it. The sting of that failure stayed with him, pestering him as images floated across his mind, each one more nonsensical than the last. 

Despite the vivid nature of the visions, Fitz couldn’t actually feel anything. He knew he should, or at least had the sense memory of what things should have felt like, but nothing registered. Which was why when he finally felt something brush against the back of his hand, he twitched, fingers curling toward his palm briefly before spasming outward again. Other things began to register, too, slowly at first but rapidly picking up pace: the scratchiness of starched sheets, a steady beeping sound, the coolness of the room and one warm point over the back of his hand. 

His natural curiosity kicked in and he struggled to open his eyes. It took several long moments but eventually he managed it, blinking rapidly against the too-bright light of wherever he was. It wasn’t a room he knew, but he recognized objects, recognized that they were meant to help people heal, but he couldn’t put names to any of them. Fitz felt his pulse begin to race as he struggled to understand what was happening, and his eyes darted around, looking for someone that could help him. 

They landed on Jemma, and Fitz felt himself relax. She was there, next to him, so everything must be okay. He noticed she looked tired, though, and he realized that she must not have been taking care of herself. Fitz opened his mouth to say something about that, to make a joke of it so she’d know he was all right, but nothing came out. Frowning, he tried again, just wanting to say her name and see her smile as it rolled off his tongue, only to be brought up short. 

He couldn’t do it. 

The words wouldn’t come, no matter how hard he tried. Fitz’ eyes went wide as he watched Jemma, panic fully taking hold.

Jemma’s eyes flew open when she felt Fitz’s hand twitch and she sat up, looking down at it. He’d just moved. He really had; she’d felt it. Her heart jumping into her throat, she looked up to his face, and saw that his eyes were moving beneath his closed eyelids. He hadn’t done that before, not until now. Hoping against hope, holding her breath, Jemma watched him and prayed for a miracle.

When he finally opened his eyes, she almost burst into tears from relief and had to stop herself from crying out his name. He needed to wake up at his own pace. She didn’t need to frighten him. She watched as he blinked a few times, squinting up at the fluorescent lights, seeming to get his bearings. Then they flickered back and forth a few times before landing on her.

Her breath caught in her throat. This was it. This was the first step in determining whether or not he had brain damage, and the extent of it--whether or not he recognized her. She’d already had strong talks with herself, telling herself that if he didn’t remember her, it wasn’t the end. A hard blow, to be sure, but not one they couldn’t overcome. Amnesia patients of this sort were usually able to recover their memories, given time. She would just have to remain optimistic.

Fortunately-- _thank god_ \--his eyes seemed to recognize her. A weight lifted from her shoulders, and she smiled tremulously. He opened his mouth, like he wanted to speak, but nothing came out. He frowned, blinked, and did it again. Nothing happened. Then his breathing picked up, coming short and fast, and the beeping of his heart monitor sped up. Glancing from it back to Fitz, Jemma shifted forward on her seat, squeezing his hand in hers and reaching out her other towards his face.

“Fitz?” she said softly, hopefully. “Fitz, can--can you understand me?” 

He watched as her mouth moved, could hear something was coming out of it, but none of it made sense. It was all jumbled, a collection of dissonant syllables that put him on edge. Why couldn’t he understand what Jemma was saying? Had he just traded one nightmare for another, going from being unable to save them to being unable to speak? His confusion was so great that he didn’t even notice Jemma reaching for him until he felt her fingers brush against his cheek.

The unexpected sensation caused him to flinch away, pushing back into his pillow as he turned wild eyes back to her. A part of Fitz realized he had hurt Jemma, seeing the disappointment, confusion, and possibly even fear cross her face, but most of his mind was occupied with keeping himself calm. It was a losing battle, though, and Fitz found himself squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to will away whatever it was that was keeping him from being able to speak with her. 

Jemma gasped as he flinched away from her, unable to stop the plume of hurt that lanced through her, not knowing what she’d done wrong. Was he sensitive to touch? Had she overstimulated him? Had she _hurt_ him? Worry bubbled up in her as he shut his eyes and turned his head away from her, and the beeping of his heart monitor continued to speed up. He was panicking, and she didn’t know why.

“Fitz?” she tried again, squeezing his hand once more. “Fitz, can you hear me?”

Suddenly, the door behind her opened, and she looked to see one of his doctors come in, followed by a nurse. They’d obviously been drawn by the signals spiking on the various machines hooked up to him, and they looked concerned.

“He’s awake,” Jemma said, perhaps unnecessarily, “but something’s wrong--”

“Let us through, so we can assess him, see what’s going on,” the doctor said, coming up to the bed. He gently elbowed Jemma aside as she stood, and several more doctors came into the room. Before she knew it, Fitz was surrounded by doctors and nurses, all talking over one another, all poking and prodding him, taking readings, bringing in equipment, getting ready to do scans. Jemma hovered next to the door, arms tightly crossed, biting her lip, craning her head to try and see him, but the crowd around him was just too thick. Finally, one of the nurses came over and told her that it would probably be best if she waited out in the hall. She resisted, not wanting to leave Fitz for even a moment, but the nurse was adamant, saying she would come and get her the moment the doctors were done and Fitz could receive visitors again.

That left Jemma pacing out in the hall, her thoughts a whirlwind. Fitz had seemed to recognize her, which was a positive, but he hadn’t been able to speak. At least, it looked like he’d tried to and hadn’t been able to. And then he’d panicked. That was worrisome. Perhaps it was just a side effect of having been in a coma for nine days; he would regain his speech in no time. 

Skye found her that way, wearing a hole in the cement floor outside Fitz’s door. “Whoa, what’s going on?” she asked. “I heard there was a commotion out here earlier, I wanted to come check and make sure everything’s fine. Is Fitz okay?”

“I--I don’t know.” Jemma bit her thumbnail. “He’s awake now--”

“He is?” Skye’s face lit up. “Simmons, that’s great!”

“--But, but, it seemed like he couldn’t speak, and when I touched him, he--he jerked away from me,” Jemma said miserably. “Something’s wrong. I know I said I would take anything that came our way but I’m just so worried, Skye, what if--”

“Whoa, Simmons, calm down.” Skye grabbed her by the shoulders, steadying her. “One thing at a time. He just woke up, yeah? He’s been in a coma for over a week. He’s probably confused as hell, doesn’t know where he is or what happened. Give him a chance to wake up and figure it out. I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jemma nodded, swallowing thickly. “I’m sure you’re right, I’ve just--I suppose I’ve been hoping for the best, but...preparing for the worst.”

The door to Fitz’s room opened, and his lead doctor came out. Both Jemma and Skye looked up, and Jemma took a step toward him. “How is he?” she asked.

The doctor let the door shut behind him and clasped his chart files in front of him. “Remarkably good, all things considered. He’s alert and responded well to some basic sensory and motor function tests. Weak, of course, from being on bedrest for so long. But...we’re concerned that his cognition seems to be heavily impaired. He doesn’t seem to be able to understand us and he can’t communicate back. We won’t know for sure until we can run further scans and tests, but it looks like we’re looking at some definite brain damage here, possibly severe. In particular, some type of aphasia. Are you familiar with that, Agent Simmons?”

Jemma nodded, even as a part of her heart sank. She’d done a lot of reading on the different types of aphasia over the course of the past week and a half, and had a good idea now of what to possibly expect going forward. It likely wouldn’t be easy, but she was determined to see it through.

Skye was looking back and forth between them. “Aphasia? What’s that?”

“It’s a type of injury that occurs when the brain goes without oxygen for too long, usually when a stroke occurs,” the doctor explained. “Patients have trouble communicating through speech and even writing, and sometimes can’t understand speech as well. Prognosis is usually good, though. These first few weeks will really be an indicator of what we can expect to see of his progress. But like I said, we won’t know the extent of the damage until we can run further tests.” He looked to Jemma. “You can go in and see him now, if you like. Just remember that he may not be able to understand you and that, well...it may affect his mood. Go easy on him.” He gave her a brief smile and turned to walk away down the corridor.

Jemma took in a deep breath. Skye placed a hand on her back. “You got this?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Jemma whispered. “I think so.”

Skye nodded. “Good. I’ll go tell everyone that he’s up, but...not to come crowding in. You guys need some time to yourselves.”

Jemma managed a shaky smile for her. “Thank you, Skye.”

She smiled. “No problem. Good luck.”

Skye left too, then, leaving Jemma alone. She approached the door with the same trepidation she had the first day she’d come to see Fitz there, not quite knowing what she would find or what to expect. So she opened the door quietly, carefully, just enough for her to slip inside, and shut it gently behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

Fitz was sitting up--his bed had been adjusted slightly, allowing him to recline at an angle--and was looking aimlessly into the far corner of the room. His heart monitor was beeping at a regular rate again, which reassured her somewhat. She still couldn’t believe that he was awake; the sight of him there, alert and with his eyes open, _alive_ , with a bit of color back in his cheeks, was more than she could have hoped to have this morning.

His eyes snapped over to her at the sound of the door shutting, and she managed what she hoped was a happy smile for him. “Hello, Fitz,” she said, aiming for a happy voice as well, but knowing that he might not be able to understand her. 

The crush of doctors and nurses hadn't done Fitz any favors at first, spiking his panic to nearly unmanageable levels. It didn't take him long to figure out that part of the problem was trying to understand what they were saying, his frustration feeding into his anxiety and making it worse. As soon as he put that together, Fitz closed his eyes and let the staff work around him, treating their voices as white noise and only trying to track them when they tapped his shoulder to get his attention. 

Fitz was relieved to have found something that would help him, and was even more gratified to realize that he was beginning to pick up his name here and there. It wasn't much, but at least it was something. At least he didn't feel quite as helpless. 

He used that to help him calm his heart and his breathing, and by the time Jemma re-entered, Fitz was feeling more prepared. He caught his name and saw Jemma's smile, and felt his own lips quirk up reflexively. He opened his mouth to greet her - or at least say her name - but nothing came out. He frowned in disappointment and gave her a pleading look, hoping that Jemma could see how sorry he was. Wanting to do _something_ for her, Fitz turned his palm upward, hoping she'd slot her hand in his. 

Seeing Fitz's tiny smile did wonders for Jemma’s spirits--it was like a weight had been lifted off her heart. Though it dampened slightly when he still couldn’t speak, she was more than willing to look past that for the moment. He recognized her, and more than that--he was happy to see her, and was offering his hand.

She came forward immediately, crossing to his bed in just a few steps, overcome with emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes as she took his hand in both of her own, sitting down in her plastic chair and bringing it as close to his bed as she could. Though she didn’t mean for them to, a few tears slipped out and fell down her cheeks despite the wide, tremulous smile on her face. “Hi, Fitz,” she said again, her breath hitching. “I’m so happy to see you’re awake.” 

Then she brought his hand up to press a careful kiss to his knuckles before setting it gently back down on the bed, still caught between both of hers. She couldn’t stop staring at him. She’d been so afraid that she would never have any of this again--Fitz awake, lucid, looking at her and smiling at her and responding to her, in any form whatsoever, that she was nearly shaking with relief. She’d been holding it all in for nine days; letting it all go now was like an adrenaline crash.

Fitz’ eyes went wide as he tried to process what he was seeing. He knew she was smiling, but the tears running down her cheeks confused him. Had he done something to upset her? Or was it that he looked that bad? Fitz gave Jemma's hand a squeeze, the feeling of her flesh and bones beneath his fingers reassuring him. Hopefully it did the same for her.

He watched her cautiously, trying to navigate whether what he was doing was good or not. It didn't seem to ease her crying any, and Fitz tugged at her hand, acting on instinct. He may not have been able to articulate what he was thinking, but he knew he wanted her closer than she was. He tugged more insistently when Jemma didn't move, nodding toward the strip of bed next to him and widening his arms a bit. 

When Jemma gathered what Fitz wanted, she choked on a sob that was neither sad nor joyful--just pure heartfelt emotion. “Okay,” she managed, nodding and standing, pushing her seat back a little without letting go of his hand. “Okay.”

The truth was, she’d been wanting to crawl into the bed next to him from day one; it was all of the wires and IV drips and tubes that had stopped her from doing it, more than the fear of his doctors yelling at her. She’d desperately wanted to have him close, to feel his heartbeat beneath her ear, to reassure her that he was still alive and fighting for his life. If she had her way now, she’d slip in right next to him, curl herself around him, and never let go again. But she was wary of hurting him, or dislodging the IVs he still had connected.

So she sat slowly on the bed next to him, easing herself onto the mattress, trying not to jostle the arm he had in a cast. Then, carefully, gently--afraid of making him flinch again the way he had when she’d first touched him--she cradled his face in her hands, stroking her thumbs over his stubbled cheeks and smiling at him through her tears. 

“Is this okay?” she asked. She knew he couldn’t understand her, but hoped that by providing the additional stimulus, over time his brain would begin to parse the information correctly. But she couldn’t stop herself. Hoping it wasn’t a step too far, she leaned in to rest her forehead against his, taking in a shuddering breath at the emotions just being this close to him again produced. 

Fitz kept his eyes on Jemma as she sat at the edge of his mattress, pleased he’d been able to make himself clear even without being able to speak. Not being able to use his voice bothered him but he was honestly too tired to worry about it much. All that really mattered was the woman who was next to him, and Fitz was doing his best to focus as much on Jemma as he could. 

He had expected to never see her - or anyone - ever again. Fitz had intended to die at the bottom of the ocean, so simply being able to _see_ Jemma was a boon, moreso now when he wasn’t as confused as he’d first been. His eyes traced over her face, taking in her unkempt state. Jemma had never been one to let her appearance be anything less than impeccable, and Fitz felt another stab of concern when he saw the bags under her eyes and how gaunt she seemed, but managed to hold back his reaction this time. It wasn’t as if he’d actually be able to say anything. 

That disappointment wasn’t as sharp this time around at least, whether because Fitz was learning to not expect to speak or because Jemma was near, he couldn’t say. He’d like to think it was because of Jemma, though, and his eyes slid shut as she brought her hands up to his face. Her touch was cool, but not unpleasantly so, and Fitz leaned into it, trying to soak it all in. He felt her breath shudder across his face and his eyes flew open, brow furrowing, to see what was the matter. 

“I love you,” Jemma whispered, repeating her mantra, even more tears rolling down her face. “I love you so much.”

Then she took in another deep breath. She needed to get her act together and be strong; with Fitz not being able to understand her; having her be a crying mess in front of him was liable to make him confused and upset. She had just been so convinced she’d never be able to tell him she loved him again. She sat back a little, wiping at her wet cheeks, and tried to get herself under control. Then she gave him a shaky smile as an idea struck her.

“I love you,” she said again, this time doing the basic sign language for the phrase as well. He couldn’t understand her speech, but maybe there was a chance he could understand rote hand signals.

He'd tried to follow Jemma when she pulled back, not wanting to relinquish any contact with her, but stopped when he saw what she was doing. It took him a minute, gaze tracking her hands as she'd pointed to herself, made a shape over her chest with both hands, then pointed to Fitz. He struggled with it for a moment before it dawned on him what she was trying to say, and a smile spread across his face. 

He lifted his good hand as best he could, hampered a bit by the IV lines and other monitoring equipment, and pointed to himself. He kept his eyes on Jemma's face as she watched him, looking for her reaction as he pointed from himself to her. Without the use of his other hand he couldn't fully mimic her, but Fitz hoped this would be enough for her to understand. He loved her, too. 

So much for trying not to cry. When Fitz signed back to her, Jemma felt a new flood of tears threaten to overwhelm her, but these were tears of pure happiness. She laughed as a wide smile broke over her face, and she nodded, feeling her heart expand to near bursting. 

This was so promising. Not only was it a relief to be told she was loved back, it was a good sign for Fitz’s health. It was proof that he could understand her, that his cognition was not completely shot. She knew that with aphasia, intelligence was usually not hindered at all, just communicative ability, and that he was the same Fitz she knew, just currently locked away behind that communication barrier. This was the first positive sign that he could work to overcome it. Jemma felt lighter than she had in days. 

Buoyed by that, she leaned in, intending to kiss him, but stopped just short. Somehow, it felt wrong to do it without having his express permission. Looking at him, she pressed two fingertips to her lips, then his, raising her eyebrows in a question. “May I?” she asked, feeling a little silly.

Fitz’ lips pursed automatically in response to the gentle touch of Jemma's fingertips, pressing a kiss there without consciously meaning to. He loved her, regardless of anything else that could be thrown at them, and he wanted to shower her with affection. Even if his means of doing so were severely limited at the time. Seeing her hazel eyes widen in response, Fitz brought his hand up to wrap his fingers around her wrist and hold her in place before doing it again, in case she thought he hadn't meant to do that.

He supposed he hadn't, but that didn't mean he didn't want to kiss Jemma. He very much did want to kiss her, hospital bed be damned. It was bad enough he was stuck in a hospital unit and couldn't speak at the moment, but that didn't mean everything had to be bleak. With a smile and little nod for Jemma, Fitz took her hand from his lips to rest against his chest and leaned toward her as best he could so he could give her a kiss. 

Jemma’s breath caught at the kiss he pressed to her fingers, and she reflexively smiled. It was such a sweet little gesture, and a very Fitz thing to do, the type of thing he’d kept just between the two of them. When he leaned toward her, she met him halfway, pressing her lips gently to his. She kept it light and sweet, not wanting to overwhelm him, but it was no less heartfelt. 

Then she felt tears threatening to bubble back up, _again_. It was just too much. Being able to kiss Fitz and feel him kiss back was another thing she’d feared she’d lost, and having it back now was overwhelming her, just like everything else was. She broke the kiss far sooner than she wanted to, trying to swallow the tears back, and pressed soft, quick kisses to his cheeks to try and make up for it. Then she sat back, trying to smile, and wiped at her cheeks trying once again to get a handle on her emotions.

“Do you need anything?” she asked, feeling silly again because she didn’t know how to communicate that without words. “What can I do for you?” 

Looking around, she sighted a glass of water on the movable tray next to the bed and reached for it, holding it up where Fitz could see. 

Unlike the other gestures Jemma had made, Fitz had trouble deciphering this one. He knew she was trying to help him - that was her default mode, after all - but he couldn’t make a reasonable guess as to what she’d said exactly. His mouth was feeling dry, though, so he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the straw Jemma held out to him and took a few slow, careful sips of water. Fitz pulled back when he was done, and she set his cup to the side before settling back onto the mattress, just next to his hip. 

Jemma began speaking again, and although Fitz couldn’t understand everything she said, he did his best to respond. He found the sound soothing, the pitch and timbre of her voice comforting no matter what she was saying. It was also another opportunity to just look at her, something Fitz was more than happy to take advantage of in the moment. She still looked the worse for wear, but her eyes were bright and her smile wide, so he trusted that she’d be back to her old self soon. They both would. They’d beaten the odds on the ocean floor, after all, and they’d beat them here, too. 

Weariness began to creep up on Fitz, and he found his eyes fluttering shut even though Jemma was speaking. She noticed, too, since she would stop talking for stretches of time until he opened his eyes again and nodded at her to prompt her to continue whatever she’d been saying. Eventually he had to give up the battle, though he did manage to press a soft kiss to Jemma’s knuckles before he finally nodded off.


	3. Chapter 3

With Fitz awake, the doctors and nurses began his treatment in earnest. There were a battery of tests, some involving enough blood and fluid draws that Fitz found himself feeling keenly sympathetic toward Skye; no wonder she’d bemoaned Jemma’s every request for a blood draw last year! Still he endured them. Years of knowing Jemma - and his mother as well - had taught him to simply keep quiet and do what he was instructed where medical staff was concerned, even if he didn’t particularly care for their orders. 

A bright spot was the fact that Fitz found he was able to understand more and more of what was going on around him. They were only simple words granted, but he was heartened to know his brain was beginning to work some things out on its own. Getting his tongue to cooperate was still problematic, but it felt good to try and hear anything come out of his own mouth, even if it was a bit garbled. Jemma helped him on that front, sitting with him after his speech therapist had left and repeating words with him, going back and forth until Fitz was satisfied with the result. 

The day she walked into his room after the therapist had left and he was able to say, “Hi, Jemma,” without stumbling over those three little syllables was easily the best of his life, if only for the way she beamed at him. 

“Fitz!” she cried, her heart swelling with pride and love. “Have you been saving this up just for today?”

It was her way of saying she was proud of him while trying not to be patronizing or condescending. The last thing she wanted to do was coddle or infantilize him, but she still wanted to praise him for all the progress he was making--and he was making so much. It was slow, but it was progress, and nothing made her happier. It was difficult to watch Fitz struggle with speech that had once been second nature to him, but she knew that every inch gained now was a victory.

“I’ve brought something for you,” she said, coming forward. His cognition still wasn’t at one hundred percent, but she talked normally with him with the aim of keeping it improving, and providing him with a sense of normality. “Trip went on a supply run today and I had him pick up some sugar-free ice cream cups for me. Now, it was _not_ easy sneaking these past your doctors, and as a doctor myself I really should not be indulging you like this, but as your girlfriend, I thought once or twice couldn’t hurt. Triple fudge, just for you.” She withdrew the frozen treat and set it on the rolling tray in front of him, along with a spoon, and smiled brightly at him again.

Fitz grinned at Jemma, pleased that she was so ecstatic about what he’d been able to do. There were days when he was sorely tempted to quit on therapy altogether because getting back to where he’d been seemed to be an insurmountable challenge. But then there’d be a moment like this, after he’d done something perfectly and Jemma looked at him _that_ way, like she’d never seen someone more brilliant, and Fitz knew he had to keep going. He wanted to get back to himself, to be who he knew he was and not the stuttering mess he always seemed to be now. Jemma deserved to have that man back, and he’d work as hard as he needed to bring him back to her. 

“T-t-thanks,” he managed to get out, eyes dropping from Jemma to the ice cream she’d brought him. Triple fudge had always been his favorite, and after weeks of a rather bland, doctor-approved diet, Fitz’ taste buds could use some relief. He pulled the rolling table closer with his good hand before pinning the little cup in place with the other so he could peel back the cardboard top. It was awkward, what with the cast still in the way, but the best he could manage at the moment.

“Patti, she, uh,” Fitz stopped working on his ice cream and furrowed his brow in concentration, almost as if he were physically willing the words in his mind to behave for him. “She said that I’m doin’ okay. Wants t’ see if Coulson is okay with me goin’ to, uh, the, y’ know, the-” Realizing the word wasn’t going to come to him, Fitz quit on it and used one of the workarounds he’d been taught for when he struggled with spontaneous speech. “She wants me t’ go back t’ work. See how I migh’ do there.” 

“In the lab?” Jemma supplied, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, Fitz, that’s wonderful news! So you think they’ll be discharging you from here soon, then?” In her talks with his doctors they’d discussed it as being a good possibility, but she hadn’t thought it would be quite so soon. “It will be so nice to have you back around the base. It’s been so strange, being in a lab without you, the bunk too...and I know everyone misses you. _I_ miss you.”

She spent every available moment she could with Fitz, but she still had her daily work to attend to, and she’d actually taken to sleeping in her assigned bunk at night, at the heavy suggestion of Fitz’s doctors. She would have much preferred to stay on the cot Trip had brought to Fitz’s room, but they said it was no place for her to get any type of proper rest. She eventually bowed to their wishes, though, worried she was overwhelming Fitz with her presence. But the bed in her bunk felt large and empty without him, and she was looking forward to the day where she could sleep next to him again. 

“Uh, I dunno about that. Maybe?”

Fitz kept his eyes down, trained on his snack as though he were really focusing on feeding himself. The truth of the matter was that he felt a bit guilty over how excited Jemma sounded at the possibility of him returning to work. The awful thought crossed his mind that maybe she thought he was dragging his feet, that he wasn’t doing enough to improve and get back into the lab. He shook the thought off as quickly as it came on; Jemma had been nothing but supportive of him. That was all there was to it. 

“I think she wants t’ make sure I’m not over- uh, that it isn’t too much t’ handle, that’s all.” He dug out a spoonful of ice cream and ate it, enjoying the sweetness and the feeling as it melted on his tongue. “Wouldn’t mind gettin’ back t’ a real bed, though.” 

What he didn’t say was that he was looking forward to getting back to Jemma’s bed, or her into his. The hospital bed was far too narrow, and the rails on it made him feel hemmed in. It only served as another reminder that he wasn’t a _real_ agent anymore, or at least wasn’t currently trusted the way he had been. He wanted to get back to that, and everything else that had been part of his life prior to the medpod, so maybe he could actually start to feel like himself again. 

“Of course not,” Jemma said, smiling softly at him. “You can’t be expected to just dive headlong right into it. We’ll start you out a bit at a time and build your endurance up, just as we’ve been doing with everything else. Oh! I almost forgot.” She turned back to her bag, where she’d set it on the chair next to her. “The new issues of some of our favorites came out, too.” She reached in and pulled out a few magazines, like Scientific American and Popular Science, setting them next to his ice cream. “Because I know you’ve been going a bit mad in here.”

Fitz visibly perked up as Jemma set the magazines in front of him, even going as far as setting his half-empty cup to the side to leaf through the glossy pages. Thankfully his ability to read hadn’t been impaired in the accident. That had been a happy discovery, as it had meant he’d had something more to do than sleep, stare at the ceiling, and try to force himself to speak correctly. It also let him feel like he was keeping his mind sharp; he may not be able to get into the spirited debates he and Jemma had engaged in at the Academy, but at least he knew the concepts back and forth. 

He came to a stop on an article about the future of home robotics, his fingers brushing over the mock ups of what different engineering firms were developing the world over. The possibilities seemed endless, and Fitz found the question bubbling out of him before he could stop himself. 

“Wonder if I’ll ever…” He trailed off and tilted the magazine so Jemma could see what he was looking at. Whether he couldn’t or didn’t want to finish his thought, Fitz couldn’t be sure. It was a little terrifying to think about what might happen if he couldn’t work in the lab again, and he didn’t want to give voice to it here and now, when he seemed to be making decent progress. 

Jemma turned and bent down a little so she could better see the magazine. Her eyes trailed over the photos of photos and illustrations of prototypes of planned designs in the works, and immediately knew what Fitz wasn’t saying. He was worried he’d never build anything like that, or work at that level, ever again. She felt her heart break a little bit, and wished she knew a surefire way to ease his fears. It wasn’t his intellect that had been damaged in the medpod, only his ability to communicate. She was confident that once he learned to incorporate and adapt to his disability, he would be just as productive as he’d ever been.

“I’m sure you will,” she said quietly, with conviction. “I _know_ you will.” She reached out to run her fingers lightly through his hair. “I know it might not seem like you’ve made much progress sometimes, but Fitz...a few weeks ago you couldn’t even speak, or understand me. Now you’ve regained a lot of that ability back. Just think of where you’ll be in a few more weeks, yeah?”

Fitz nodded and sighed, setting the magazine aside so he could finish his dessert before it melted. He knew that Jemma had a point, but that didn’t make it any less worrisome. He had always been so quick to pick up on things as a kid, but what if he couldn’t recreate that now? While the medical staff had been encouraging and the prognosis was good that he could make a nearly full recovery, there was still a chance he wouldn’t. That was what had been lurking in the back of his mind lately, as much as Fitz tried to do his best not to give it any credence. 

The silence that fell over them as they each ate their dessert felt comfortable to Fitz, and it gave him a chance to get himself settled. Since he had woken up, Jemma had gone back to her own work in the lab. This was one of the few times he got to see her, and Fitz didn’t want to ruin it by wallowing in his fears. Resolved to that, he picked up the tablet that had been left with him that afternoon and held it out to Jemma in invitation. 

“P-Patti gave me this,” he explained, “t’ help with my fl- t’ help with my talkin’. Would y’ mind revisin’ with me?”

“Of course,” Jemma said, smiling at him. “Just let me get this moved out of the way.” She picked up their empty dessert cups and moved to throw them away, then wiped down their spoons before replacing them in her bag to take back to the kitchen later. Then she came back and, after moving his rolling tray aside, perched next to him on the bed and took the tablet from him. “Where would you like to start?”

Over the next few weeks, Fitz applied himself fully to his speech and occupational therapies. He was determined to make the most of the limited time he had with the therapists, not only for his own sake but for Jemma’s as well. She had been so good about taking time out of her own day to visit him and then working with him at night on his homework. Fitz felt like he owed it to her to succeed and show what he was capable of achieving. 

He seemed to be making good progress, too. The medical staff approved him to move back into regular quarters, and Fitz took his few belongings and stowed them in the room next to Jemma’s. He rarely saw the inside of it, though spending the majority of his free time in her room as he tried to settle back into life in a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility. It was happening in inches, but his progression was steady, and Fitz felt that he might actually stand a chance of getting back to where he’d been. Maybe even better. 

That feeling only lasted until he hit his first major snag. Coulson had finally approved them to use the lab for a therapy session, even going so far as to clear out non-essential personnel. There were still a good number of scientists and technicians in there though, Jemma included, who would see him working with Patti. Fitz hated walking in there, knowing that they all could remember him as he was, the wunderkid from the Academy who now struggled to explain the most basic of scientific concepts. It made his cheeks blaze, and he kept his eyes glued to the floor, even when Jemma slipped over to say hello. 

His anxiety over having to perform in front of others didn’t do him any favors. It felt like he stuttered over every other word, and Fitz couldn’t even find the vocabulary to talk about the lab reports Jemma brought over at the therapist’s request, despite everything he needed being on the page in front of him. Jemma, bless her, resisted the temptation to fill words in for him, at least for a while. When it became obvious he couldn’t manage, though, Jemma took over for him, filling in as neatly as she ever had. However, unlike the thrill Fitz had felt at finding someone who understood him so well when he was younger, now he only felt shame. Was this what it would be from now on? Him struggling and Jemma having to explain what her idiot boyfriend was thinking?

The end result was him going nonverbal, jaw clenched with a mixture of frustration and shame as he stared at the floor. To his horror, Fitz could feel tears begin to prick the corners of his eyes. Before he could stop and think about what he was doing, Fitz was walking out of the lab doors and back to his bunk, only intent on escaping the pitying looks on everyone’s face. 

Jemma watched him go with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She knew he’d been struggling--she hadn’t been blind to that--but she’d just attributed it to nerves, first-day-back jitters, but thought he would persevere and soldier through it the way he had everything else so far. She hadn’t expected him to just suddenly turn and leave in the middle of her explanation of one of the analyses she’d been running in his absence. She turned to look at his therapist, who seemed just as startled.

“I’ll go find him,” she said.

She went straight to her bunk, assuming that’s where he would go, and opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle him. “Fitz?” she called out softly, poking her head in. She wasn’t sure what she would find, what sort of mood he would be in. But when she didn’t receive an answer, worry lanced into her heart, and she opened the door wider. “Fitz?”

The room was empty. A check of the en suite bathroom showed that he wasn’t there, either, and for a moment Jemma almost panicked. Then she realized that he must have gone next door to his officially-assigned bunk instead, and that only made her feel worse. That meant that her bunk, the one they shared together, wasn’t a source of comfort for him right now, and that filled her with dread. He must be far more upset than she thought.

Very worried now, she left her bunk and took the few steps to his door, where she knocked quietly.

Fitz huddled on the far side of the bed, using the frame and mattress to hide in the relatively empty room. He wasn’t expecting to be alone for long, but having that little bit of control for the time being put him at ease and gave him a chance to try to even himself out. To make matters worse, his hands had begun cramping on him, something he’d been warned might happen when he was particularly stressed. 

Fitz reached into his bedside table and pulled out a stress ball, working it between his hands the way he’d been taught. His cast hampered his movement a bit, but he could feel the muscles slowly begin to loosen bit by bit, returning functionality to his digits. He heard Jemma’s knock just as he was coming to the end of his hand exercises and turned his head to look at the door. A tiny part of Fitz was tempted to ignore her. He was feeling enough like a disappointment without seeing the let down on Jemma’s face. 

But he also knew ignoring her would only hurt them both more. With a sigh, Fitz pushed himself off the floor and walked over to the door. He kneaded the stress ball between his fingers a few more times, preparing himself before he swung open the door. Jemma looked just as concerned as he feared and he dropped his gaze to the floor. He knew he should apologize, but Fitz didn’t trust his tongue to work properly. Instead he simply stood away from the door, giving her the option of coming into his room if she wanted. 

Jemma was dismayed by how downtrodden and tense Fitz looked, and so came into the room slowly, but no less concerned. She saw the stress ball in his hand, and that worried her, too. “Fitz?” she said carefully, as the door shut behind her. “What happened?”

He rolled his shoulders into a shrug, not trusting his tongue not to trip him up. A quick glance at Jemma told him he’d have to give her an actual answer, though, so Fitz took a deep breath and plopped onto the edge of the mattress, struggling to find the right words. Every time he thought he had them, though, they slipped away, leaving him feeling worse than he had before. He eventually gave up on finding the right thing, choosing to trust that Jemma wouldn’t mind if he stumbled a bit. 

“I, uh, just, y’ know, it’s hard t-t’ _be_ there.” Fitz looked into Jemma’s eyes, hoping she wouldn’t make him actually say what he was thinking. Her gaze was so soft and compassionate though that Fitz found it just spilling out of him anyway. “M-m-maybe I don’t, uh, belong in that, y’ know, that space. Uh, anymore.” 

“Oh, Fitz.” Jemma walked forward until she was right in front of him, and reached out to take his hands in hers. “It’s just your first day back. No one expected it to go perfectly. _I_ didn’t. This is just a little bump in the road. With time and practice, you’ll get used to it, just like everything else.” She squeezed his hands. “I have faith in you. You’ve just got to have faith in yourself.” 

That was easier said than done. For as often as he had Jemma encouraging him, Fitz could hear his father in the back of his mind, insisting that if he really were a genius he’d be able to have it all figured out already. That no man of consequence would allow himself to be stopped by something like this. 

And while Fitz had long grown used to ignoring that voice, that had been before the aphasia. He’d been able to out class everyone in any of his classes, with Jemma being the one exception to the rule. Now it seemed like he’d be lucky to hold his own in the most basic of conversations. Still, with the way Jemma was looking at him, Fitz knew he had to try. He gave her hands a small squeeze in return and tugged a bit, urging her to sit next to him. 

“M-maybe I’ll go in later. There, uh, it was a bit busy today.” 

Jemma sat down next to him, pulling his left hand into her lap and massaging the parts of his hand that she could that weren’t covered by the cast. “I can ask Coulson if he could have the lab completely cleared out for an hour block or so for your next therapy session,” she said. “Maybe that way, you won’t feel so pressured. It will be just you, me, and Patti.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “I’m sorry if we put too much on you today.”

Fitz watched as Jemma worked on his hand, her fingers methodically digging in and drawing soft, pleased hums from him as the muscles gave way. He tipped to the side and leaned against her, wanting Jemma to know that he wasn’t upset with her, but the situation in general. 

“Thought I could handle it,” he murmured. It felt easier to speak now with the two of them tucked away in his room, away from the prying eyes of all the other scientists. “But, ah, I’m not sure I want them t’ go. I mean, they, they have t’ work, right?” He also didn’t want the inevitable round of rumors to start up, either, that Leo Fitz was so far gone round the bend that he needed a silent lab to work. That would never do. 

“Let’s start with just, uh, just us in the lab. We could go, after- when work is over. If that’s okay.”

Jemma tilted her head to rest against his when he leaned against her, continuing to massage his hand and hoping she was helping to reassure him, even just a little bit. “In the evenings?” she said, filling in the blank for him. “Of course. I don’t see why that would be a problem. Coulson should approve it.”

It would mean she would have to put in more work hours during her day, but she was more than willing to do it for Fitz. He was her first priority, and shuffling or extending her schedule for him wasn’t even an issue for her. 

Confident she had worked out the kinks in his left hand, she took up his right hand and started the same slow, methodical massage. “Should I tell Patti that your session is through for today?” she asked, her voice going a little quieter.

It was a tempting offer, to be able to just hide away and wallow in his misery for a bit and feel sorry for himself. Fitz even had his mouth open, half way to asking Jemma to do just that when he stopped himself. If he quit now, he’d only be proving his father right. His Scottish stubbornness kicked in at that thought and he shook his head. 

“No. No, I need t’ work with her.” His voice was steady, far steadier than it had been since he woke up, and it reinforced that he was making the right call. “I’ll go find her, just, in um, a minute or two.” Fitz was enjoying having Jemma massage his hands, having a stolen moment in the middle of the day together. Jemma seemed to enjoy it, too, with the way she smiled at him and leaned into the kiss he pressed into her hair. 

Patti was understanding when he found her, telling Fitz that it wasn’t unusual for patients to feel a bit overwhelmed with things like this. He knew she was well intentioned, but he didn’t want to be like typical aphasia patients. He wanted to be himself again. The team needed him to be himself again. He was meant to be the top engineer at the Playground, but he could barely manage to repair the D.W.A.R.F.s let alone create anything innovative. The stakes were higher here, and Fitz was keenly aware of that. 

He doubled down on his therapy as a result, working with Patti during the day and going into the lab at night with Jemma. Familiarizing himself with the space when it was quieter, being able to ask Jemma questions without anyone overhearing their conversation, made everything seem much more manageable. There were good days and bad days, but he was managing as best he could, and eventually Patti gave him the best news he’d heard in a long while: she had cleared him to return to the lab full time. 

It was a double edged sword, though. While Fitz had been chomping at the bit to get back to work, it also meant Patti would be moving on as well, and he had to return to working standard hours all the time. He wished he’d had even a fraction of the faith in himself that Jemma did, but the idea of plunging back in left him tense and crabby. He was trying to not take it out on anyone, but the more they tried to step in and help, whether offering to give him a physical hand or trying to complete his sentences, the testier he became. Fitz felt that he was on the verge of breaking down, and it was only a matter of when and where it would happen.


	4. Chapter 4

Jemma was proud beyond words when Fitz was cleared to come back to the lab full time. It wasn’t the miracle cure-all that Fitz sometimes seemed to be hoping for, but it was a good step in the right direction, and a victory in the journey of his recovery. He’d made so many good strides along the way, and Jemma was confident that he would continue to improve, given time and patience.

But she hadn’t really expected the sour moods. She knew Fitz was still struggling, and had anticipated his frustration and the occasional bursts of anger--after all, that was part and parcel of dealing with someone for whom everything had once come so quickly, and who was now having to relearn things at a slower pace. But she hadn’t expected it to be quite so...pervasive. Fitz was tense and irritable almost all the time now, and it was starting to wear on her.

She told herself that she just had to keep strong, to maintain a good attitude and good faith in Fitz, to be a source of encouragement and positive reinforcement for him, to provide him with faith when his faltered. She didn’t want him to see how his grumps and ill moods were like tiny barbs in her heart, making her wonder if perhaps she wasn’t doing enough for him, and reminding her that his troubles were all her fault to begin with. But she couldn’t let him see that. So she made sure to smile, and praise him when he did well, help him when he faltered, and bolster him when he felt weak.

One day in the lab, he seemed to be having a particularly hard time of it. They were supposed to be working on figuring out cloaking for the Bus, and Fitz couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of the schematics in front of him, comparing it to the device with the mess of wires trailing out of it on the holotable next to him. Jemma had left him alone for a few minutes, trying to give him some space, and when she came back to check on him, he was muttering to himself. 

“I know engineering isn’t my specialty,” she said, leaning in to look at the schematics. “But it looks like it may have something to do with how these wires connect to this fuel cell here in the center.” She pointed to a spot on the schematic, then the device on the holotable.

Fitz stared at the device, then at the schematics, then back again. He moved between the two, trying to keep everything organized in his brain as he worked through the issue before him. Something had come loose when the Bus had been hit during their most recent raid, but for the life of him Fitz couldn’t figure out where to start. It didn’t help that he could feel Jemma watching him, either, her eyes tracking his every move even as she worked all the way across the lab. It made him fidgety, more so than normal, and he buried his right thumb into the palm of his left hand to try to rein himself in. 

He was so focused on trying to keep the drawing of what the cloaking device _should_ look like in his mind that he didn’t notice when Jemma came over. Her quiet suggestion made him jump, sending him stumbling into her as his heart leaped into his throat. He stuttered out an apology, but it wasn’t nearly as sincere as it could have been, and he immediately went back to work. 

Fitz plugged the wires in where Jemma suggested, double checking each one as he went. When everything was placed to his satisfaction, he attached it to his terminal and ran a basic diagnostic to test for energy output. The readings it returned were nowhere near what would be needed to cloak a vehicle as big as the Bus, and Fitz groaned in frustration, his head lolling forward. 

“The b-b-bloody thing doesn’t want-” Fitz grunted and scuffed his toe against the floor, trying to get himself together. “It’s useless, I’m never goin’ t’- it won’t- _fuck_!”

Jemma was already concerned from Fitz being so on edge that she’d startled him to the point of making him stumble, but when he cursed, she darted forward in alarm to cover his hands with hers where they rested on the holotable. “Fitz!” she cried in a rush, trying to soothe him. “Fitz, it’s alright, we’ll try again, we’ll try something else. You just need to--take a step back, breathe.”

He tensed beneath Jemma’s hands, her words rankling him deeply. He’d had enough breathing, enough taking a step back and assessing what needed to be done next. Fitz was ready to _do_ something, and sitting around trying to get himself together wasn’t going to get him there. That wouldn’t help the team. 

Fitz jerked back, away from Jemma and the holotable, a low growl building in his throat. He could feel his legs trembling and knew that if he looked down he’d see both his hands shaking, likely too badly to even consider working on a piece of equipment as delicate as the cloaking device. Fitz propped them on his hips instead, his fingers fisting into his shirt in an attempt to hide the tremors, and scowled at Jemma. 

“B-b-breathe? I’m just, just supposed t’- like nothin’ is goin’- like everythin’ is _normal_? Our fri- the _team_ is in the field, and they, they’re constantly in d-danger because _I_ can’t fig- make this damn thing work!” 

His frustration had been building with each stuttered syllable until it finally erupted. Fitz lashed out, sweeping the cloaking device off the holotable. It landed with a crash, components snapping off to skitter across the floor as silence fell over the room. Everyone had turned to see what had happened, but Fitz felt Jemma’s eyes most of all, the disappointment he was sure to find there weighing on him heavily. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to face her, Fitz stalked over to the cloaking device, scooped it off the floor, and went in search of somewhere else to work.

Jemma flinched as Fitz exploded, watching in shock as he knocked the device off the table, as it cracked into bits that would take days to repair. It was only when he strode out of the lab with the mangled remains of it in hand that she came back to herself and chased after him, feeling the eyes of everyone in the lab following her.

She caught up with him in the corridor, his head down and posture stiff. “Fitz,” she said, grabbing him by the elbow to stop him. He wouldn’t look at her, which left a sick feeling in her stomach. “You need to take a break. You’re stressed and upset, and you won’t be able to get anything done in this state. Please, just...let’s take that back to the lab and then I’ll get you some tea.” 

Any other day, Fitz would have been able to see the silver lining - his mother had taught him to be an optimist - but today he couldn’t clear that hurdle. A vision of their future flashed across his mind, a lifetime of Jemma having to cover for him, do things for him, walk him through even the most basic of tasks. He’d never be able to be a proper partner or boyfriend or… or anything else he might have wanted to be to Jemma. 

He bit his lip, the slight pain keeping him from tearing up too badly, and carefully backed away from Jemma, causing her hand to fall off his arm. “I, uh, I can’t take a- I can’t stop, Jemma.” He glanced up, risking a peek at her face, but looked away just as quickly. The hurt on her face felt like a punch to the gut, but Fitz didn’t feel like he could bend on this. 

“T-t-the team’s in the field, the, uh, danger involved. They need this. Sssso, uh, I need t’-” Fitz gestured with the broken cloaking device toward the hangar where the Bus was parked. “I’m just, uh, goin’ t’- yeah.”

It hurt, having him pull away from her, but mostly Jemma was concerned to the point of feeling sick. He was near to breaking and she could tell; it was written all over him, from his body language to his speech to his shaking hands, and she wanted to pull him back from that ledge, to keep him from shattering. Feeling a tightness in her chest, she went after him again, keenly aware of the other agents out in the corridor going about their business.

“Fitz, please,” she said, taking a few steps toward him, holding her hands out. “The team is fine. They’re not expecting the cloaking to be done today. They know you need time. Please...you need a break.” 

“N-no, Jemma. What I-” Fitz took a deep breath to gather his thoughts and words before looking her dead in the eye. He could see how much he was hurting her, how deeply Jemma just wanted what was best for him, but all he could see was that he was now someone who had to be taken care of. No longer a protector of any sort, but someone to be coddled. “What I _need_ is, is t’ be me. Again.”

Fitz watched Jemma’s face crumple as his words hit home, then quickly made a beeline for the relative safety of their old lab on board the Bus. 

Jemma didn’t try to follow him that time. His words were like a slap in the face, and she was left reeling. 

It took her a moment to regain her composure before she turned and walked back to the lab on autopilot. She cleaned up the bits of the cloaking device that remained scattered on the floor and put them in a plastic bin to leave at Fitz’s workstation. Then she forced herself to finish up the rest of the work she had left to do that day, still aware that the other techs and scientists were shooting her looks, wondering about Fitz’s absence. He never came back to the lab.

As soon as she was able, she escaped to her bunk, and felt guilty for almost hoping that Fitz wouldn’t be there, and feeling even worse for being relieved when she found that he wasn’t. Then she shut herself in the bathroom and sank to the floor, trying to get her roiling emotions under control. She thought Fitz had been doing well, but she was so, so wrong. He felt that he was lacking--that he wasn’t ‘himself’--and it was all her fault. If she’d just been faster, if she’d gotten him to the ocean’s surface quicker, he wouldn’t have been without oxygen as long and then the damage wouldn’t be as bad. He wouldn’t be struggling as much. He wouldn’t be so angry all the time. And what if...what if he was angry with _her_? What if, deep down inside where he wasn’t telling her, he resented her for making him this way, for bringing him to the surface as damaged goods? 

It was all too much, and the guilt felt like it was rising up to swallow her whole, leaving her feeling sick and nauseous. She stayed in the bathroom for a long time, past what she knew was the regular dinner hour on base, and Fitz’s continued absence began to eat away at her heart, reinforcing the idea that he really was growing to resent her.

Fitz spent hours on the Bus, working through as many solutions for the cloaking as his brain could dream up, but it was slow going. Slow, and incredibly frustrating. His mind kept drifting back to Jemma, and the way she’d looked when he’d walked away from her. That look chilled him to the bone, but Fitz couldn’t think of a single way he could explain what he was thinking and feeling to Jemma. And not only because his tongue wouldn’t cooperate with him.

He would never, ever regret that she had saved him. Jemma pulling him up from the bottom of the ocean, regardless of what had come with it, meant that he got to see her again, got to kiss, hold and touch her. Fitz could never, not in a million years, regret that. But he was also mourning the loss of what could have been, too. Between the relationship they had and the one they were building, he’d long been certain that he wanted to marry Jemma. But what kind of husband would he be if she was always having to do things for him? It didn’t seem like much of a life to tie her to, at least not in Fitz’ opinion. 

Those were the thoughts that chased him around as he fiddled with wires and batteries and tested things again and again. Eventually, long after his eyes were dry and his shoulders were aching, Fitz gave up on trying to do anything else with the cloaking device, leaving it scattered across his old workspace and trudging back into the Playground. 

He walked past the lab, keeping a careful eye out for Jemma, but couldn’t spot her. The kitchen and commons were next on his list, but no Jemma there, either. The only place he could think she might be was their - her - bedroom; if she was there, instead of chatting with Skye in one of the public areas, it meant he had done more to hurt her than he’d thought. 

It was risky, trying to carry tea with his hands while he was nervous, but Fitz decided to gamble. He made two mugs of tea, doctoring them appropriately before carefully carrying them down the hall toward the bunks. He paused outside Jemma’s door, uncertain of how to go about knocking with both his hands full, and eventually just leaned forward to softly call, “J-Jemma? Are, uh, are y’ there?”

But Jemma, who was still shut away in the bathroom with her knees drawn up and her face buried in her arms, didn’t hear him.

Fitz stood there for what felt like an eternity, his heart sinking with each passing moment that Jemma didn’t come to the door. He tried to tell himself that she was probably just sleeping, but that didn’t make him feel any better about the entire situation. Once it became clear that Jemma wouldn’t be answering the door, Fitz walked the mugs back into the kitchen, dumped their contents into the sink before loading them into the dishwasher, and slinked back to his own bedroom. 

He didn’t sleep well at all, tossing and turning without Jemma next to him or the help of morphine to keep him still. Instead he was plagued by dreams that he couldn’t quite remember the details of, but all had one common theme: he had lost Jemma and couldn’t find her. Fitz kept waking up in a panic, reaching for Jemma only to remember why she wasn’t next to him. 

When it was finally a decent hour, he dragged himself out of bed, showered and dressed, and headed to the base’s laboratory. Fitz wasn’t crazy about the idea of working in the lab with everyone around, but maybe if he just got to see Jemma, to wish her a good morning and let her know he was sorry for what had happened, it would all be okay.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time Jemma finally pulled herself out of the bathroom, she saw it was near her usual bedtime, and Fitz still hadn’t returned. It only solidified the fear in her mind that he was angry with her, that he resented her, that she hadn’t done enough for him and had failed in her role as a support and as his girlfriend. When the clock ticked past 10pm and she realized he wasn’t going to come to their bed for the night, her heart felt like it had been crushed beneath the weight of her guilt, sadness, and self-recrimination. She numbly changed into her pajamas, crawled into bed, and proceeded to cry herself to sleep, convinced she had ruined their relationship for the second time in their lives.

When her alarm went off in the morning, she went through the motions of getting ready for her day, feeling like she was on autopilot. She knew she didn’t look well, but could always play it off to not having gotten enough rest. She got to the lab early and started organizing her list of tasks that she had on order to get done that day, feeling her stomach plummet at the large number of them that involved working with Fitz.

She knew he would show up eventually, but she still wasn’t prepared for the way her heart twisted when she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see him entering the lab, his face unreadable. She took a deep breath. He likely hated her and she’d ruined everything again, but she had to stay strong, for his sake. He didn’t need her falling apart on him; this wasn’t about her, it was about _him_ , and what he needed. So she did her best to force a smile onto her face and make her voice pleasant, though both were a little shaky. “Good morning, Fitz,” she said.

“Jemma. H-h-hi.” 

Fitz winced at his stutter, hating that he couldn’t even get through greeting her without it when he had been able to say it perfectly just the day before. Needing a point of contact with her, Fitz reached for Jemma’s hand without stopping to think about what anyone else in the lab might think, linking their fingers together as he finished what he’d come to say. 

“I should have, uh, been here. Yesterday. With the, uh, y’ know, the thing.” He risked a glance at her, hoping to get an idea of what Jemma was thinking, but she still had that fake, overly sunny smile plastered in place. It made him nervous to see that, and Fitz looked down at their fingers once more. “It’s just kind of, uh, loud? In here. I think, I need, I need, something softer?” He shook his head and self-corrected, “Quieter than here. But I need t’ be here, too. Close.

“Is, is that, um, all right?”

Jemma just stared at him, her smile slowly collapsing. After the way he’d walked away from her yesterday and never come back to their room, for him to walk in and take her hand now and ask to be close left her feeling utterly confused and heartsick. If he resented her, why was he doing this?

“Of course,” she said, swallowing and trying to regain control of herself, trying to stay pleasant, the way she had to be. “Whatever you need.” She winced. He’d made it quite clear what it was he needed. “What you _want_. I mean…” She shook her head and lifted the sheet of paper she was holding in her free hand, the one he wasn’t holding, and tried to smile again. “I’ve got a list here of everything we need to work on today, if you’d like to take a look. Then--then we can discuss your work environment needs.”

Fitz frowned as he watched Jemma, trying to place what was bothering him. He knew something was off with her, but he couldn’t find the words to say what it was, either. There had been a time when he could have known what was going on with Jemma just by looking at her, but now he had to sit here and try to puzzle it out. Which was exactly what he was doing, even as she offered up the paper for his inspection. It took him a few minutes, both of looking at her and going over what he’d said, before he realized what he hadn’t said. 

“S-s-sorry, Jemma.” Although whether he was apologizing for his behavior yesterday or himself in general, Fitz couldn’t say. All he really knew was that he wasn’t the man she had signed up for, either as a lab partner or a boyfriend, and he hated that. Jemma deserved better on so many levels. “I’ll try, uh, try t’ be better.” 

“Oh, Fitz, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Jemma said quietly, her smile turning sad and brittle. After all, it was she who had failed and was failing, not him. “You’re doing just fine. Now...you said it’s too noisy for you here in the lab, yes? And you need somewhere--quieter.” Somewhere away from her. But she was already running over the options for him in her head, even as she gently pulled her hand away from his, still too confused by his actions. Her logic wanted to tell her that perhaps she’d been wrong and he didn’t hate her, he’d just been lashing out and needed time to himself, but her heart was just too bruised.

Fitz missed the feeling of Jemma’s hand in his as soon as she pulled away, but he chalked it up to their being at work. While Coulson didn’t seem overly keen on enforcing every policy S.H.I.E.L.D. had in place when it fell, much less Section 17 specifically, there was the matter of workplace decorum. It wouldn’t do for him to be overly affectionate with her in front of colleagues; they had already seen him behave unprofessionally the day before and Jemma had always been worried about appearing professional enough, given their age when they started with the agency. 

Telling himself that was all it was, but feeling uneasy regardless, Fitz followed her to a back corner of the lab to a station that was tucked out of the way of everyone else. Including Jemma, he couldn’t help but notice. A little voice in the back of his mind whispered that maybe she was sick of him bungling things, too, and this was just her way of getting him out of the way. After all, it wasn’t like she’d answered the door for him last night, either. 

Feeling himself getting ready to spiral, Fitz gave himself a small shake and tried to smile at Jemma. He braced his hands against the station as though he were trying to get a feel for it and nodded. “This, this, um, it should work.” 

Maybe he was just trying to smile at her to be civil. Maybe he was extending an olive branch. “Good,” she said, setting his copy of their day’s schedule down on the worktop in front of him. “Now, I know you work best now when you have as few interruptions as possible, so I’ll try to make sure everyone stays out of your hair, yeah?” That included her. “Though, if you need--” She stopped, wincing. “If you _want_ help with anything, I’ll be right here.” She gave him another shaky smile before retreating back to her workstation.

Jemma really did mean to leave him alone and let him work in peace, in the quiet he so obviously desired, but it was hard. She was so used to working with him, and needed his input on a variety of projects, that she found herself continually going back to his corner to ask him questions, to have him take a look at things, to see how he was doing. And she kept filling in his blanks, too, when he hesitated too long on a word or phrase. That had become second nature, too, because she hated to see him struggle and just wanted to help, though now it seemed she got him wrong about as much as she got him right. She honestly couldn’t tell if she was irritating him or not, though he did seem to be acting off still, and she hated herself for it. All she’d wanted to do was help him, and her fear that he resented her was coming back in full force.

As lunch approached, she looked at the clock with trepidation. She and Fitz usually took their meals together, and she was afraid that today he would leave to eat lunch without her. He’d been especially short with her the last time she’d gone to his workstation in the corner, and she didn't want to make him hate her even more, but she really needed to ask him a question about a report before she finished for the morning. Gathering up her folder, she walked slowly over to him and quietly cleared her throat. “Ah...Fitz? I need you to take a look at this report, please, if you have a moment.” 

Although he'd promised to be better, Fitz was finding it was easier said than done. For starters he had to work at a snail's pace, carefully pinning down each thought before he could apply it to what was in front of him. Which worked well enough, until someone asked for his attention. As soon as anyone interrupted him, the concept he'd worked so hard to corral would run off on him, leaving Fitz frustrated with nothing to show for his efforts. He'd snapped at more than a few people after those moments, including Jemma, and while he felt terrible about it, it felt even worse when he remembered the way he'd worked in the past. 

Jemma, try as she might, wasn't helping matters either. Every time she assisted him only served to remind Fitz that he wasn't as useful as he'd once been and that not even Jemma knew him well enough to predict which way his brain would jump. It left him feeling even more irritable, and he couldn't wait for lunchtime to come around. Maybe, with all the other agents out, he'd actually be able to make himself useful. 

He eyed Jemma with a fair amount of trepidation when she approached, worried that she was coming to insist he take a break. Fitz knew she was likely only following Patti's suggestions about his work schedule, but that didn't make him feel less infantilized by the entire ordeal. When he heard Jemma ask about the report it was almost a relief, and he found himself nodding eagerly, pleased that it was about work and not a reminder about his newfound deficiencies. 

“Yeah, I c-c-can do that.” 

“Thank you.” Jemma’s smile was a little more genuine as he took the report and looked it over for her. She even managed to be quiet while she waited for him to parse out his words, and thanked him again when he was done. Then she took her folder back over to her workstation. 

As she prepared to leave for lunch, she looked back over at him to see that he was fully engrossed in his work, and showed no signs of wanting to leave. Her heart sank. Fitz had a habit of getting lost in his projects, but his stomach had almost always overruled that, insisting on being fed on a regular basis. Feeling desperate, Jemma made a bit of a show of cleaning up her workspace and storing everything away, making a small racket, but he still didn’t look up. She lingered by her chair for a moment longer, watching him, feeling her mood sink more and more by the second. He still didn’t want much to do with her. He thought he was lacking, he hated himself for it, and he was punishing her--as she probably rightly deserved.

She left the lab with her head down, her hands twisting into fists at her sides.

But she didn’t go to the kitchen. She went to her bunk, shutting herself inside again as she had the previous day, trying to forestall another panic attack. This one was more grief and despair for what she feared she’d lost than guilt, but it still took her longer than it should have to get herself back under control. It was past the time she should have been back in the lab by the time she finally emerged and went to the kitchen to make a mug of tea. 

When she carried it into the lab, Fitz was still hard at work at his station, poring over a stack of papers spread out in front of him. She wondered if he’d ever left to go eat. Jemma silently set the mug down at the edge of the table, careful to leave it where he wouldn’t accidentally knock it over or spill it, and went back to her work station with a heavy heart.

Fitz had always been focused in the lab, often working through the night on projects, but he was even more so now, with his natural stubborn streak working to help him overcome the difficulties he had when it came to organizing his thoughts. It meant that he was nearly oblivious to the things going on around him, a fact that was only aided by his station near the back of the lab. When he started to feel like he was making decent headway there was no hope anyone would get through to him, not even his grumbling stomach. It wasn’t until a quarter past the hour he noticed Jemma was gone. Fitz felt a stab of hurt that she’d left without saying anything to him, but pushed it to the side. The opportunity to show her he was still useful was more important than missing one lunch with her. There would be others, after all. 

He didn’t even notice when she set the mug of tea at his lab bench, only seeing it when he reached over it to grab a report he needed. He smiled at the steaming beverage, recognizing it as a sign of Jemma’s affection for him. Even better, it was one that hadn’t required her to coddle him, and for the first time in a while Fitz thought that, just maybe, they would be able to get back to where they’d been before. 

Fitz sipped at his cuppa as the afternoon wore on, working steadily and feeling pleased with his progress. There were several reports in his “completed” pile, and while there weren’t as many there as he’d like, it felt good to see he’d made good use of his day. Eventually his stomach began to nag at him, and a quick glance at the clock revealed it was nearly the end of the work day. Fitz began to pack up his station, taking more care than he ever had in the past just to ensure things were in their proper place. 

Satisfied with the job he’d done, he picked up the finished paperwork and empty mug and headed toward Jemma’s station. She seemed to be engrossed in what she was doing, so he waited for her to step back before sidling up next to her. 

“N-nearly done, Jemma?” Fitz gave her a small smile as he held up his finished work. “I thought that, uh, maybe y’ would want these, and then, um, we might, we might get somethin’ t’ eat?” Just then his stomach made itself known again, growling loudly and causing Fitz to blush. 

“You want to?” Jemma said, looking up at him, wide-eyed with surprise, undisguised hope written across her face. Then she caught herself and nodded with a smaller, more sedate smile. “Yes. That would be--lovely. I’ll be just one moment. Here.” She took the reports from him and looked them over, her smile growing a little wider and more satisfied as her eyes ran down them. “These look fantastic, Fitz. Exactly what I needed. Well done.”

She made sure to give him a true, encouraging smile as she turned to slot them into their proper folders. She might be lost on where she stood with him personally, but he still needed her support.

When she was done cleaning up her workstation, she turned to him hesitantly, unsure how he would take her offer. “If you would like,” she said, “I know you haven’t been off base since...since the accident. I know you’ve been going a little mad, cooped up in here.” _My fault._ “Maybe you would like to go somewhere outside the base? I’m sure we could get approval from Coulson, for a few hours.”

She almost didn’t want to think of it as a potential date, especially with the way she was so afraid their relationship was taking a nosedive, but he _had_ been the one to suggest getting something to eat, and she was so hopelessly in love with him that she would cling to what was left of them well past when it was long gone. But maybe he wouldn’t even want to go anywhere alone with her, preferring to stay on base with the others. 

Fitz felt his heart pick up at Jemma’s suggestion. Like her, he hadn't missed the fact that what she'd suggested was very much _not_ the norm. Hell, the last time they'd been able to find out anywhere just the two of them had been in Dublin; every other date night had just been them finding time to be alone together. This, though, sounded like it could be something special.

There was a prickle of nerves along with his excitement. While he and Jemma shared a bed most nights and she'd been as affectionate with him as ever before, Fitz’ rehab had kept him from being ready for anything more. He still wasn't sure he was ready, but the idea that Jemma still thought of him as desirable lifted his spirits. 

“That sounds, uh, it sounds really nice.” He gave her a bashful smile. “What time?”

Jemma’s heart gave another hopeful pulse of warmth at his smile, but she fought with herself not to get too excited. He’d been so hot and cold, and she was feeling so down already that she didn’t want to open herself up to more hurt. Maybe if she didn’t load this up with expectations, she could come out of it feeling better than she would going in.

(That was a lie. She had expectations. She had so many of them. She wanted to go out with Fitz and pretend like it was a real date and pretend like he was happy and hopefully _see_ him happy, see him smile and have it reach his eyes, hear him laugh, see him have a good time, hopefully enjoy himself around _her_. She didn’t care if he stumbled over his words or took a while to think of them. She wanted him exactly as he was, in any way he came. She just wanted _him_. And more than anything, she wanted him to be happy.)

“How much time do you need?” she asked, checking the clock again. “Would fifteen minutes be enough? Twenty? I can go talk to Coulson about clearance.”

“T-t-twenty should do it,” he answered, tripping over his words in his excitement to be going out with Jemma. “Should we, ah, um, meet at the, the, um, up front?” 

He watched as she smiled up at him, the first genuine smile Fitz had seen from Jemma in what felt like ages, and he felt that familiar sunshine-like glow come over him. He even took a few steps backward as he left the lab, unwilling to look away from her for too long, before he finally gave up on it and turned so he wouldn’t trip and fall trying to get to his room. Even so he rushed, his brisk walk being a bit more akin to a trot than an actual walk, making it to his room in record time. 

With only twenty minutes, Fitz couldn’t have a proper shower, but he washed up as best he could before turning his attention to his wardrobe. Most of his everyday things were in their shared bunk, but he did have a few nicer things here that just wouldn’t fit. He looked to those now, his fingers moving carefully over the fabrics as he considered his options. He settled on a dark pair of trousers and a light blue button down, and even considered a tie before he realized his hand wouldn’t cooperate. He settled for pulling on a gray jumper instead, tied his dress shoes as best he could, and left his bunk to go meet Jemma at the Playground’s entrance. 

Jemma couldn’t help but notice how unexpectedly excited Fitz looked as he left the lab, and it actually bolstered her spirits as she left to go talk to Coulson about clearance to leave the base. As she suspected, he had no problem granting them the leave--they’d more than earned it, he said, having not asked for any time off since they’d transferred their operations to the Playground.

Unfortunately, meeting with Coulson didn’t leave her much time to get ready when she got back to her bunk, and when she did, she agonized in front of her wardrobe. She didn’t want to go in the clothes she’d been wearing in the lab all day, but what if she dressed up and he didn’t and she made things weird? What if _he_ dressed up and she didn’t and _that_ made things weird? In the end, she took the risk; she hadn’t felt very beautiful lately, and wanted to feel nice, so she picked out a purple floral print sundress and paired it with a light cardigan and flats. She barely had time to touch up her hair and makeup before it was time to meet Fitz.


	6. Chapter 6

Jemma could already see Fitz at the Playground’s entrance as she approached, and she could have sworn her traitorous heart mushroomed three entire sizes as she took him in. He’d dressed up. He’d actually dressed up, he wanted to look nice for her. He looked so handsome; she felt her stomach flutter. Maybe he didn’t hate and resent her as much as she feared. Maybe it had just been a terrible day for him and she’d let her guilt eat her alive. 

Her steps slowed as she reached him, and when he looked up, she gave him a smile that was almost shy. “Coulson said we could check out one of the SUVs,” she said, by way of greeting. “Are you ready to go?” 

Fitz had been so busy rehearsing what he wanted to say that he didn’t even hear Jemma walk up. He only noticed her once she’d spoken, and he immediately sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes going wide. She looked beautiful. To be fair, he always thought she was beautiful, but it was clear she’d put more than her usual effort into her appearance, changing into a dress just to go out to dinner with him. He gawped at her for a minute, his jaw working as he tried to think of something - _anything_ \- to say, regardless of whether it was clever or not, but nothing came. 

Instead he did what felt natural, leaning in to press a kiss to Jemma’s cheek. Aware of where they were, Fitz kept it brief, and pulled back to say, “Y’ look really, uh, really _nice_.” 

Jemma’s breath caught when Fitz kissed her cheek, and when he complimented her, she actually blushed. She fought a pleased smile, ducking her head, and said, “Thank you, Fitz. So...so do you.”

She hadn’t acted like this since she’d been a teenager and first become aware she was developing feelings for him. She was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. She was just so surprised, after the way he’d been the previous day and that morning. This gave her hope. Reaching out to hit the button that opened the door to the hangar, she carefully took Fitz’s hand in hers while they waited for it to open, hoping he would let her hold it.

“What do you think you might be in the mood for?” she asked. “Coulson said there’s a small selection of places nearby that we could find on the GPS. I’ll let you pick.” It was the least she could do, as a treat for him.

He laced their fingers together and gave a light squeeze, using the feeling of Jemma’s hand folded in with his to ease himself as he thought about the question. His first thought was that he’d love a burger and chips, maybe with a milkshake; Fitz had been on a “healthy” diet for so long that all he wanted was fat and sugar. But a quick look between the two of them, and he knew they were overdressed for that kind of thing. Besides, he could always take her there next time. For their next date. 

“Uh, somethin’, uh nicer, I guess? Maybe steak, or, or, y’ know pasta?” All Fitz really wanted was a nicer sit-down place. Somewhere kind of quiet, where they could talk and linger over their meal and pretend that everything was normal, just for a little bit.

“Oh, some pasta would be lovely, or even a nice steak. I haven’t had steak in ages,” Jemma said, leading him through to the hangar. As she selected a key fob to one of the SUVs parked there, she added, “And neither have you. I think you deserve a treat, for all the progress you’ve made, don’t you? And, just because.” She shot another small smile at him before another thought struck her. “Oh--and if you’re feeling up to it, after, maybe we could even find somewhere that has frozen yogurt. Skye will be so jealous.”

They’d reached one of the SUVs; Jemma climbed in on the driver’s side, as Fitz hadn’t been cleared for driving yet. Once they were both buckled in, Jemma started the vehicle up and eased them out of the hangar and on their way.

It didn’t take her long to find a local steakhouse on the GPS that would suit their needs, though she was a little tense and nervous as she drove; it was the first time she had been off-base herself and wasn’t familiar with the area, and she hadn’t driven a car in a long time either. She was surprised her international license was even still valid (not that it mattered, since Skye had given them all new IDs anyway). But she managed to get them to the restaurant without incident, and smiled at Fitz again as she parked the car and got out to go inside. 

While on the base, Fitz had felt okay. Nervous, perhaps, but it was a manageable kind of nervous. He was even okay in the SUV, enjoying the opportunity to sneak peeks of Jemma as she drove them away from the Playground and into town. He was distracted enough by it that he didn’t even realize that they had arrived until Jemma had pulled into a space and cut the ignition. 

Fitz felt his nerves coming back as he climbed out after her. What if something went wrong? The Playground was a controlled environment, but there was only so much they could do here. Fitz did his best to push those thoughts from his mind, but when he thought they might continue, he carefully slipped his hand around Jemma’s. Having that point of connection eased some of the tension from his shoulders, and he found that he was able to actually meet the host’s eyes when they walked in. 

For a moment, Fitz considered letting Jemma take the lead. It would be easier to have her do all the talking, and it would certainly save him some potential embarrassment. But when it came down to it, he found that he actually wanted to try. Jemma couldn’t spend the rest of her life speaking for him. It wasn’t fair to either of them, really, so he took a deep breath and took the plunge. 

“T-two, please.” 

Fitz bit his lip, waiting for the moment he would have to repeat his request, but it never came. Instead the host simply picked up two sets of menus, smiled at them, and led them to a booth along the far wall. Maybe, he found himself thinking, just maybe he could do this after all. 

Jemma had opened her mouth to speak to the host, when Fitz beat her to it. She looked aside at him with a warm smile, pleased, and kept it as they were seated. However, when their waiter came by a short time later to ask about their drinks, Jemma found herself ordering for the both of them on instinct. It had just grown to be a habit, speaking for two, and from knowing his preferences so well. But when she saw a hurt look flash across his face, she felt her face fall as the waiter walked away.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, quietly, unease blooming back into her gut. “I--I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” She reached across the table to briefly rest her hand over his, needing to reassure him that she hadn’t meant anything by it, before picking up her menu to peruse it. 

She stayed quiet while she went over her options, hardly daring to look at Fitz, worried that she’d upset him again. When their waiter came back to take their order, she decided to indulge herself by ordering shrimp alfredo, before finally looking to Fitz to see what he’d chosen.

He tried to tell himself that Jemma hadn’t meant it that way. Clearly she hadn’t, given how she’d apologized, but that small moment had been enough to deflate his mood. Whether she had meant it or not, it signaled to Fitz that maybe she didn’t think he was ready or capable. Or even worse, that she was embarrassed by the way he spoke now. 

He mumbled his order to the waiter, causing the young man to ask him to repeat himself. Fitz got into his own head, feeling self conscious about the way he stuttered through his request twice more before the waiter knew he wanted a filet, rare, with mashed potatoes and brussels sprouts. If he had been in a better state of mind, he would have recognized how patient the waiter had been, but as it was all Fitz could think about was the way he’d made a fool of himself. And how Jemma was likely regretting suggesting they come out to dinner. 

Too afraid to meet her eyes, Fitz stared into the glass of wine she’d ordered him, fingers toying with the stem and watching as the dark liquid sloshed around the bowl. 

Jemma was watching him closely, the unease in her gut swelling back into the sick worry and fear that had dogged her for the past day. He was upset, she could tell, and it was her fault. Again. She’d tried to help, but it had backfired or he hadn’t wanted it, and now he had the look on his face he got when he was frustrated or grumpy or angry, and she had put it there. Desperate to salvage things, not to let herself ruin a potentially good thing, she reached across the table again to gently curl her fingers around his, where they were playing with his wine glass. “You did really well in the lab today,” she said softly, seizing upon the first thing she could think of to say that might bolster his spirits.

Fitz kept his eyes down, glued to where Jemma had laid her hand over his. He could recognize what she was doing, how she was trying to make him feel better, but it rang hollow. If anything it felt a bit like she was giving him a gold star, simply throwing him a bone, when all Fitz had done was his job. What he was supposed to be able to do. 

It bothered him that that was where the standard was for him now, a bar so easy to clear a child could do it, but he bit his tongue. He knew Jemma well enough to know she meant it in the best way possible and it was just his frustration with the recovery process weighing him down, but knowing that didn’t just make it disappear. Unfortunately. Fitz tried though, forcing his lips into an approximation of a smile as he glanced up at her, then back down to his drink. 

“Yeah, um, thanks.” He gently disentangled their hands and brought the glass up to his lips for a sip. His hand was shaking a bit, but thankfully not too badly. “It was, um, I could get more done once I’d found, uh, found…” Fitz trailed off, his eyes slipping shut as he tried to think of the word he wanted. “Found my rhythm.”

Jemma felt her heart sink even more at the pained, forced smile he gave her, and as he pulled his hand away from hers, even though it was just to take a drink of his wine. She left her hand where it was for a beat too long, looking at it in faint dismay before bringing it back and putting it in her lap, leaving her wine untouched. 

“So did having the corner workstation help?” she asked, trying her best to keep her voice pleasant and cheerful, though she felt anything but. “Was it quieter, the way you nee--” She bit her lip. “The way you wanted?”

Her guilt and fear was already starting up a running mantra in her head as she took in his downcast eyes, his trembling hands, his mumbled words. She’d ruined it, she’d ruined it, he resented her, and he was going to hate her for dragging him out here with her. But she had to keep trying, to stay positive for him, because what she felt didn’t matter.

“Yeah, it was. Better. T-thanks.” 

Fitz was trying to keep his sentences short in the hopes of giving him fewer opportunities to bungle the conversation. Which it did, in a perverse way, since it meant there wasn’t much conversation to be had at all. In an odd way, it wasn’t much different from what they’d had that first semester they’d been paired together. Fitz had been tight lipped then, too, trying to find something suitably impressive to say to Jemma, while she had been stuck trying to draw him into conversation. 

That wasn’t fair to her and he knew it. Steeling himself, Fitz decided to try directing the conversation, too, instead of merely responding. He waited for the busboy to refill their waters - the better to ensure there’d be fewer witnesses to his failure - and took a shot at it. 

“I, um, I was thinkin’ that… Well, maybe tomorrow, we, uh, we could try t’ work on the, um, the cloakin’?” It really had been a better day in the lab, and Fitz thought that maybe with his new setup and Jemma nearby, it could go more smoothly. She was hesitating, though, which made him nervous. Needing something to do, Fitz reached for his water, only to have his shaking hand knock the entire glass over, sending them both pushing back from the table. 

“Oh, s-s-shite, Jemma, I’m, I’m s-s-sorry!” Fitz threw his napkin over the spreading wet mark and looked around wildly, hoping the busboy would be coming back with a towel or something to clear up his mistake.

Jemma jerked back with a surprised yelp, then immediately tossed her napkin over the spill as well, helping to contain it. She looked up just as a waiter made eye contact with Fitz and signaled for a busboy, who started hustling in their direction.

“It’s okay, Fitz, it’s fine,” Jemma said in a rush, hoping to calm his panic. The busboy reached them then, and she sat back as he reached over the table in between them to mop up the spilled water. It didn’t take him but a minute, and then he picked up the spilled glass and their napkins before leaving, promising to bring them fresh drinks and replacement napkins. Jemma thanked him with a smile before turning her attention back to Fitz.

“See? No harm done,” she said lightly. She could see that his cheeks were still red, so she reached back across the table to try and take his hands again. “It was just water, it’s fine.”

He let Jemma settle her hands over his, but Fitz couldn’t bring himself to curl his own fingers around hers just yet. All he could think about was how easily it could have been their wine or anything else on the table that might have ruined her dress. That was a surefire way to ruin a date night, destroying your date’s clothes. He sucked in a breath, counting the way he’d been taught to calm his nerves, before exhaling shakily. It took him a few passes to feel like he could handle looking at Jemma again, but eventually he did, giving her a small, apologetic smile and closing his fingers around hers. 

Fitz pulled back when the busboy came back with their fresh waters and napkins, though, putting his hands back in his lap where they couldn’t do any more damage. He didn’t like letting go of Jemma, but he didn’t want to risk knocking anything else over, either. He found it difficult to find his voice again, worried that if he became too animated again it would only be courting disaster. Fitz tried to keep up with their conversation, for Jemma’s sake, but he was more prone to fidgeting in his chair and looking around the dining room, trying to see if anyone had noticed what he’d done. 

He was even more subdued once their entrees arrived, moving carefully to make sure he didn’t slip with the knife or send anything else flying. Fitz chanced a look at Jemma as she ate her alfredo and saw how disappointed she looked. Any of the excitement she’d had at the base had dissipated and he realized she was regretting coming out with him. The clear evidence that he was no longer good enough for Jemma stung deeply, and Fitz was left wondering what he could do to make it better. 

“Uh, Jemma, w-w-would y’-” Fitz paused and closed his eyes, trying to will away the stutter that hadn’t troubled him this badly in ages, before looking at her again. He nodded toward his plate so Jemma would know what he was getting at. “I could give y’, uh, a bit, if, if you’d like.”

Jemma’s mood was indeed slipping into the depths of despair the longer dinner went on. She could see how clearly uncomfortable Fitz was, how upset his handicaps were making him. It wasn’t that she regretted coming out with him--it was that she regretted asking him to leave the base. He’d asked to eat with her, but it had been her idea to leave, her idea to put him in this situation that was obviously making him miserable. That was what she regretted. Because she’d failed him, again.

She tried to keep him talking, to keep his mood up, but it didn’t work. He started giving brief or one-word answers, or not answering at all, to the point where she gave up and just picked at her food. The alfredo was delicious, but she found she could barely stomach it, because she was so upset that her stomach was roiling, and that made it hard to eat.

But she looked up hopefully when Fitz spoke, even though he was stuttering terribly. He was speaking, at least. That was something. She smiled at him, hoping to encourage him, especially when she realized what he was asking. “Oh--yes, please, thank you,” she said, nudging her plate forward. “You can have a bite of mine too, if you like. There’s a bit of shrimp left.”

Fitz nodded his acceptance before turning his attention to his plate and focusing on cutting a slice of his filet for Jemma. He didn't realize it, but his tongue peeked out from between his lips as he concentrated on not cutting himself instead. He carefully lifted it onto the edge of her plate, feeling ridiculously pleased that he didn't get any on the table itself. Fitz followed it with a tiny spoonful of mashed potatoes and a brussels sprout, wanting Jemma to get a taste of everything. 

He waited for her to swirl up a bit of her pasta, smiling when she placed a single shrimp atop the pile before pulling it back toward himself. He tried the shrimp first, humming in appreciation, and tackled the pasta itself. It took some work, carefully winding the noodles around the tines of the fork, but he managed it eventually, and even managed to eat it without slopping too much on his chin. He wiped at it with his napkin and smiled at Jemma. 

“Mmm, t-that’s really good.” 

Jemma watched him the whole time with a small smile on her face, feeling her heart warm a little despite her overall unease. Fitz might have thought his extra care with his utensils was a testament to his disabilities, but to her, it reminded her of the way he’d focus with his tools on a delicate project, and she found it to be adorable.

“Yeah?” she asked, with a pleased smile that actually felt genuine. “I think the menu said they use a white wine in the alfredo sauce. I quite like it myself.”

Then she turned her attention to her plate, and the sampling he’d given her. She tried the brussels sprout first, nodding in appreciation at it, and smiling at the mashed potatoes--the perfect dash of garlic added in--and then tried the steak. She promptly moaned a little. 

“Mmm--” She gestured with her fork as she chewed. “That’s--” Then she swallowed. “Oh, that’s _really_ good. I almost wish I’d gotten a steak now.” She gave him a small smile before taking a sip of her wine. “I hope there’s enough left over to take back to base.”

He hadn't been expecting Jemma's soft moan, and Fitz nearly swallowed his own tongue. He knew it was nothing like _that_ , but he couldn't help what his lizard brain picked up on at any given time. It also didn't override how it made him feel to watch Jemma enjoy something, and the warm feeling of being pleased she was pleased filled him.

Fitz, who was forever subject to his ravenous stomach, did something for the first time and pushed his half-full plate away from him. He'd never brought food home from a restaurant in his life, but if Jemma wanted some for later, he'd manage it. But not without a little negotiation first. 

“D-d-does that mean y’, ah, you're open t’ dessert?”

Jemma looked at him in surprise. He was so downcast that she thought he’d want to go straight back to the base instead of spending any more time out with her. “Oh--well--yes, if you are,” she said, lifting another forkful of her pasta. “Do you want to get something here, or...or do you still want to try and find some frozen yogurt?” 

Being with Jemma was never Fitz’ issue. Rather, he loved being around her, but the reminder of all the ways he struggled was difficult for him. He wasn't sure why, but he always seemed to struggle more when she was around. It felt like a throwback to those first months they'd known each other, but weirder now that they had so much history between them. 

Her surprise at his suggestion - which he'd hoped would read as a little flirtatious but clearly hadn't - had him second guessing himself yet again, wondering if she had just wanted to get them home sooner rather than later. Fitz did his best to shake that off. He had a taste for something sweet now, and they might as well stay out since they had the SUV. 

“Uh, y-, the second one. That, that sounds good.”

Jemma swallowed her bite of food and smiled. “Okay. We’ll just see about the check, then, and getting all of this boxed up then, yeah?” She indicated their plates with her fork. “We’ll both have enough left over for a nice little lunch tomorrow, I think.”

As soon as she saw their waiter, she caught his eye and signaled for him to come over, then asked for the check and some to-go boxes. She gave him the company card Coulson had given her to use when he returned with two styrofoam boxes. She noticed Fitz struggled a little with his, but she didn’t say anything, or offer to help. She didn’t want to upset him anymore than he already was. 

Once the waiter had come back with the card and wished them a good evening, Jemma took one last sip of her wine and smiled at Fitz again, trying to remain cheery. “Ready to go?”

Fitz swirled the dregs of his wine as he watched Jemma pay, and downed them, trying to slay the upset that had reared its head. He hadn’t missed that she’d paid with a company card. This wasn’t a date then, but rather Coulson sending him out for some yet-unknown part of his recovery. Jemma had just been sent with him because she was who he knew best, who their boss thought would be least intimidating for him. Maybe going out hadn’t actually been her idea, either. Maybe Jemma had just been waiting for the right opportunity, and he’d only presented her with it now. 

He nodded at her question, trying to regain the hope he’d felt just a few moments before. He ventured a smile, although he knew it wasn’t as bright as it could have been, and pushed away from the table. Fitz picked up the remainder of their meals and waited for Jemma, trailing out of the restaurant after her. 

They stopped by the SUV to drop off their food before turning their attention to the other shops and eateries around them. The restaurant they’d gone to was in a small shopping center, higher end than a strip mall but not large enough to be called a mall itself. There were several places still open, and odds were good that there’d be a frozen yogurt shop in there somewhere. Fitz buried his hands in his pockets and nodded toward the neon signs. 

“Should we, uh, we could, um, maybe walk? T-t-take a look and, uh, see what’s open?”

Jemma nodded, biting her lip and looking at him expectantly. If this were any other date with him--a happy date, a normal date--Fitz would have immediately taken her hand, pulling her down the sidewalk. But now, his hands were shoved in his pockets and his shoulders were hunched, and he was looking down the row of shops, away from her. Her heart sank even further than it had been before. She almost reached out to him, even lifted one of her hands, but the guilt and the fear of rejection rose up again. He’d already pulled away from her so much over the past few days, and she wasn’t sure she could handle it again.

“Sure,” she said, more than a little crestfallen. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

They walked slowly down the sidewalk in silence, and though Jemma stayed close to him, close enough for their shoulders to brush, she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt more awkward around him. The lack of words between them was nearly excruciating, and she actually found herself on the verge of tears almost, so great was her despair--and her self-hatred at putting Fitz through all of this. All she’d wanted to do was put a smile on his face by getting him off the base for a little while, getting him some fresh air, spending a little time together, just the two of them, but all she’d brought him was frustration and misery. A terrible hypothesis was forming in her mind, one that said she herself was patently bad for Fitz, that not only had she caused all of his troubles by failing to get him out of the ocean in time, but that her continued presence around him was only causing him more grief. He’d been so unhappy around her lately, and struggled so much with his speech and motor control; it seemed like a logical conclusion.

If it was true, it would break her heart.

It was a relief when she finally spotted a small frozen yogurt shop nestled in between two other, larger, shops, and Jemma tugged on Fitz’s elbow to lead him toward it. “Here we are,” she said, aiming for cheerfulness again, but it felt forced, a poor mask to cover the dawning realization that she wasn’t what Fitz needed.

Fitz reached for the door and swung it open, waiting for Jemma to enter before him. The shop was bright, done up in bold colors that so many chains like this seemed to favor, jarring his senses a bit, but she seemed pleased to be there. He could let that be enough, and just enjoy being with her even though it meant more to him. And maybe, one day, once he was fully settled and back to normal, something like this would be a real date. 

They parted ways to fill their cups, and without Jemma’s supervision Fitz may have gone a bit overboard, loading his cup with chocolate yogurt, peanut butter cups, pretzel pieces, and hot fudge sauce. He figured it didn’t matter really, as he hadn’t actually finished his meal, and he wanted to make the most of his time off base before going back to his Jemma-and-medical-staff controlled diet. (And if he were honest, Fitz would admit he was eating his feelings, just a bit, too.)

He met her back at the register and quickly reached for his wallet before Jemma could dig hers out of her purse. “I-I got this, okay?” Fitz watched her, waiting to see if she would argue with him, and when she didn’t he handed his card over before looking into Jemma’s cup. “What did y’ get?”

Jemma wanted to argue, because Coulson had said they could use the company card to treat themselves, but Fitz looked so insistent that she didn't. Instead, she tilted her cup toward Fitz so he could see into it. “I got vanilla, cheesecake, caramel swirl, graham crackers, and white chocolate chips,” she said. “I wish they had strawberries so I could at least pretend I was eating healthy, but, oh well. What about you?” She craned her neck to look into his cup, and couldn't help but smile. “Oh, I really should scold you for that...but I'm off-duty.”

She waited until Fitz had paid for their yogurt before asking, “Did you want to stay in here, or go outside to eat it?”

He shoved his wallet back into his pocket, picked up his yogurt, and wandered over to where Jemma was standing. Fitz realized he’d never been the best at multitasking in the first place, and that attempting to walk and talk was asking for trouble. But it was a beautiful night, and they literally lived underground. They never got a chance to enjoy fresh air, other than when someone neglected to shut the hangar doors. It would be foolish to waste the opportunity. 

“Uh, let’s walk, if, um, y’ don’t mind.” Fitz backed into the door and held it open for Jemma as he took a bite of his dessert. “It’s t-t-too nice t’ just, y’know, sit there.” 

“I agree.” Jemma smiled softly at him as she walked past him to go outside into the cool evening air, then waited for Fitz to catch up with her. Then she walked slowly, taking a few bites of her frozen yogurt and enjoying the taste of it--it was a good idea, she hadn’t treated herself this way in far too long--before stealing a look over at Fitz, who was also concentrating on his dessert. “Thank you for coming with me,” she said quietly, hesitantly.

Fitz snorted, digging at a piece of pretzel as they ambled along. “T-thanks for what?” He popped his spoon into his mouth, sucking the treat from it before continuing. “S-s-stutterin’ my way through dinner? Or, or s-spillin’ all over the table?” He glanced over at Jemma, trying to gauge her reaction. He hadn’t meant his words to be that harsh, but there it was. 

“It’s just… I, I know I’m not good, uh, good company. That’s all.”

Jemma’s reaction was for her face to completely fall, turning to look down at her yogurt cup in an effort to try and hide it. It was like another slap in the face--actual, verbal confirmation that Fitz was miserable and not enjoying himself. He wasn’t even happy to be with her on her own merit. She swallowed thickly against the lump that had formed in her throat and willed herself not to cry in public, not to let on that she was so close to another breakdown. He had enough to worry about.

But she was struggling enough that all she could do was say “oh” in a very small voice as she poked at her frozen yogurt with her plastic spoon, trying to summon up the appetite for another bite.

As lost in his feelings as he was, Jemma’s soft exclamation was enough to jar him back to reality. Jemma was visibly crestfallen, listlessly jabbing at her treat without actually eating any of it, and Fitz felt like a monumental ass. Yet again, he’d managed to disappoint her, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to stop. 

That was what killed him. Fitz wanted so badly to be everything Jemma needed, to be the man she'd fallen in love with, the one she'd fought so hard to save. Being anything less felt like he wasn't making the most of the sacrifice she'd made. And he saw how far off the mark he was falling every single day. Even knowing he didn't deserve her, that didn't mean Fitz wanted her any less, and the fear that eventually she'd come to her senses and leave threatened to choke him. 

“J-J-Jemma,” he whispered, sticking his spoon into his frozen yogurt and reaching to place a hand on her forearm. “Y’, y’ know t-t-that-” Fitz inhaled deeply, trying to gather both himself and his thoughts, but his emotions made it difficult to get control of his voice. 

“I just, just wanted, want t’... You're, uh, you're the best thing that ever h-happened t’ me. And I just wish that, that I could b-be more for you.” 

Jemma stopped walking and looked at his hand on her arm, biting her lip as the guilt within her surged when she heard how much he was struggling to speak. And then the tears rose again when she heard what he said. It was equal parts sadness and joy: joy, because the first part meant that he still loved her, and perhaps she wasn’t losing him the way she feared she was. But the sadness was there because he thought so little of himself now due to his injuries, and that was her fault. Always, it was her fault. 

There was a vise gripping her chest that made it hard to breathe, and she was afraid that if she looked up at him, the tears she was trying so hard to keep at bay would spill over. Swallowing past the lump in her throat again, she whispered, “You already are...you’re everything to me.” 

Jemma’s quiet assertion made his heart leap with joy, although he was still concerned that she wouldn’t meet his eyes. It felt like she was hiding from him, something that made Fitz feel uneasy, but he refused to back away. Not when it felt like they were so close to something big. 

Holding his yogurt away from them so he wouldn’t spill and ruin another moment, Fitz inched closer to Jemma. When it didn’t seem like she would pull away from him, he pressed a careful kiss to her cheek. It had felt like forever since he’d kissed her - could it really have been that long? - and he savored the softness of Jemma’s cheek against his lips. It was a simple thing but for Fitz it felt momentous, silly as that might have been. 

Jemma inhaled at Fitz’s kiss--it felt like it had been ages since he’d kissed her, too, and she wanted to imprint it on her sense memory, as if it were the last kiss she would ever receive from him. As he pulled away, she turned her face towards him, as if to follow him, and swallowed again, her eyes still cast down.

A busy city street was not the best place for what was happening between them, and as much as Jemma had been struggling to keep herself under control in order to not cry in public just a moment ago, now she felt like she was holding on by a hair. She didn’t want to break down in public and cause a scene, and create more grief for Fitz. She couldn’t.

Taking in a deep breath, she said, “I need...I need--” She swallowed yet again, feeling a flush of shame roll through her. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this here.”

He’d known they were both feeling emotional, but Fitz hadn’t realized just how close to the edge Jemma had been. Hating that he’d put her on edge like this - and knowing how much she hated breaking down in public - he stepped closer and tried to shield her a bit with his body to keep her out of view from the few people walking by. It wasn’t much, but it was the best he could do at the moment. 

“Jemma?” He whispered her name, not wanting to call too much attention to them. “S-should we go home?” Fitz hadn’t been cleared to drive, but he thought he could make the short drive back to the Playground if Jemma needed him to. He’d just go slow and take extra care, stopping if they needed to. At the moment he didn’t much care if that was a foolish plan; all Fitz was worried about was Jemma and doing what he could for her. 

She nodded quickly, before stopping herself as a lance of fear shot through her--she was ruining this. But, she told herself a bit acidly, he’d been miserable ever since they’d reached the restaurant anyway. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice wobbling. “What about your yogurt?” It was a silly thing to focus on, but suddenly very important to her; she’d wanted him to treat himself, and now she was putting a damper on the one nice thing he’d gotten this evening.

“F-f-forget the yogurt,” he countered, tossing his in a nearby bin to emphasize his point. “We can, we’ll just, uh, we’ll do it again. Later. Another, uh, another date.” He carefully took her half-melted dessert from her and gently wrapped his hands around hers, tugging her in the direction of the SUV. “C’mon, Jemma. Let’s go back.”


	7. Chapter 7

Jemma allowed Fitz to lead her down the sidewalk, trying to take every ounce of strength that she could from his hands around hers, because she knew she had to get herself back under control if she had any hope of being in a state to drive them back to the base. But it was hard, because her emotions were a mess, and Fitz’s sweetness was jarring after he’d thrown her tentative words of affection back in her face, and everything that had happened that evening had set her guilt to screaming louder than it ever had before, and she was just _tired._

She kept her head down as they walked, blinking to keep the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes back, until they finally reached the SUV in the restaurant parking lot, and she drew away from Fitz to fumble in her purse for the key fob. When she found it, she took it out with shaking hands and unlocked the doors before heading for the driver’s side, shoring herself up to make the drive back.

Fitz watched Jemma carefully as they settled into the car, knowing she wasn’t steady but not wanting to press and risk making her more emotional than she already was. She took a few moments, breathing deeply before checking her mirrors and turning the key over in the ignition. The ride back was silent, and more than a little tense, but for the first time in a long while Fitz was more worried about what was going on with Jemma than what was going on with himself. 

As they rolled along, the scenery giving way from brightly lit city blocks to the darker back roads that would lead them to the Playground, Fitz actually tried to think about what Jemma might be going through. How her world had been turned upside down, too, and that not everything was what it seemed on the surface. And while he was certainly a victim, he wasn’t the only one Ward had done a number on that day. 

That thought stuck with him, even as they pulled into the SUV’s assigned space in the hanger, returned the keys, and passed through the secure blast doors. He also remembered how _good_ her hand had felt in his, and reached out to take it up once more, heedless of who might see them. It was well after hours, and if anyone had anything to say about it, well… Fitz would cross that bridge if they came to it. 

“I think that we, we n-need t’ talk.” He finally got the courage to speak up in the corridor outside their rooms, not wanting to let what had happened outside the yogurt shop go. He couldn’t, not when Jemma was hurting and especially not if he could do something about it. “Did y’ want t’, t’ talk?”

Concentrating on driving had actually gone a long way toward calming Jemma down, but she wasn’t set back to rights by the time they made it back to the Playground, not by a long shot. She still kept her head down as they made their way through the corridors, and when they stopped outside the door to her bunk, for a brief moment she feared that Fitz was going to leave her there and return to his alone. 

And for another moment, she considered making up an excuse, telling him she was fine or that she was tired, because she didn’t want to burden him with her problems and fears. But he knew she would be lying, and if anything she owed it to him to at least try to convince him that she already thought he was everything she possibly needed.

So she nodded, moving to open the door to her bunk and going inside, leaving it open wide enough for him to follow. She crossed the room to set her purse down next to the wardrobe before turning back to him, wringing her hands in front of her. “I’m so sorry, Fitz,” she blurted before she could stop herself.

Fitz didn’t need more of an invitation than that. He quietly followed Jemma into her bunk and shut the door behind him, taking care to lock it as he did so. He didn’t expect anyone to just come barging in, but one could never know with all the things that happened in a S.H.I.E.L.D. base. Their talk after dinner had been intense, to say the least, and as far as Fitz was concerned it’d be better if no one else could just happen upon them. 

He looked around the bunk, observing all the things he’d taken for granted, the homey touches Jemma had put in here that were missing from his own assigned bunk. Fitz hadn’t realized it last night, but it was those things, the little ones that she’d put in place, along with missing Jemma herself that had led to an uneasy night for him. This was where he belonged, where he should have stayed, the night before. He felt guilt at the thought, and took a few steps toward Jemma. Her hand wringing was one of her nervous tics, and he automatically reached out to hold them, hoping Jemma would find it as soothing as he did. 

“W-what do y’ have t’ be sorry for?”

Jemma looked down at their hands, and thought of everything that had happened over the past two days, and even beyond that: all of Fitz’s struggles, his frustration, his testiness and grumpiness as a result, the way it felt like he’d started withdrawing into himself and pulling away from her (from everyone), her fear that he was growing to resent her, and the way he’d snapped and walked away and not come back, and then how miserable he’d been all evening, and how that all tied into how she felt like none of it would even be happening if she had just done better by him--and her face crumpled.

“Everything,” she said, as tears welled up in her eyes again. “You’ve been so unhappy, and it’s my fault. I’m--I’m so sorry.” 

That broke his heart, although whether it was because he’d finally realized everything Jemma had taken on herself or the fact that he hadn’t done enough to ease her concerns, Fitz couldn’t be sure. It was probably a bit of both, and he felt himself choke up. Not trusting himself to speak without bungling it terribly, he did what felt most natural. Using his grip on Jemma’s hands, he gently tugged her toward him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her against his chest. He rocked them there for a moment, trying to find his words and hoping that just holding her would be comforting. 

“Jemma,” he began, speaking slowly and doing his best to force his tongue to get the syllables right the first time, “y’ h-haven’t done anythin’ wrong. I know that, uh, I’ve, I’ve been a grumpy bastard. B-but that isn’t your fault.” Fitz thought he felt her sob a little harder, and brought one shaking hand to rest on the back of her head, tucking her closer as though that could save her from any hurt she was feeling. “I’m, I’m sorry that I’ve been like that.” 

Jemma huddled closer against his chest, her fingers twisting into his jumper, and tried to concentrate on the feeling of being in Fitz’s arms, the familiar scent of his cologne, but somehow it only made her feel worse, because she was so afraid of losing him. 

“But it _is_ my fault,” she wept, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “You’re so frustrated and hard on yourself because of your injuries…which never would have happened if I’d--if I’d just swam faster, gotten you to the surface quicker, you’d never would have...you wouldn’t…”

“J-Jemma, no, no. That’s not it at all.”

Fitz pulled back just far enough to see her face, the hand that had been cupping the back of her head coming around to palm her cheek. His thumb brushed away some of the tears on her cheek as he encouraged Jemma to meet his eyes. 

“I, I thought that, that I was goin’ t’ _die_.” Just saying that threw Fitz back to the medpod, of trying to prepare himself to say goodbye to her and being okay with the knowledge that at least Jemma would live. “I n-never thought I’d see y’ again. Y’, y’ gave me that.” He paused to take a breath, his own tears forming on his lower lashes. How could she ever think he’d blame her for what had happened to him?

“It is _not_ your fault. If, ah, anyone is at fault, it’s, it’s _him_. Ward. You s-saved me. Y’ gave me the chance t’, t’ come back and try. That’s priceless, Jemma.”

She leaned her face into his palm even as tears continued to roll down her cheeks. “But you’re so _unhappy_ ,” she said, repeating herself. “And it seems like everything I do to try and help just makes it worse.” Her words choked off on another sob as a fresh wave of guilt and sorrow washed over her. “I don’t know if I’m not doing enough or just doing it all wrong, but I...I’m…” She looked down. “When you didn’t come back last night, I...it made me worry that you don’t--that I’m starting to lose you and...and that one day you’ll wake up and realize that I’m not good for you anymore and that you’ll--you’ll--”

She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t fully voice her fear that he would leave her. That was a step too far, and she felt ridiculous, saying all of these things, but they were very real fears that made her heart ache and tore her soul apart and admitting these things were incredibly hard, and she was terrified that Fitz wouldn’t take her seriously. That he would laugh her off and call her overdramatic--or even worse, say she was right and he _did_ want to leave. 

Jemma's rapid speech was difficult for Fitz to follow but he did his best trying to track her argument so he could counter them and hopefully put her at ease. It was easier said than done though, with the distraught expression she wore. It made Fitz want to hug her more than anything else, but something told him she didn't need that as much as she needed to hear him speak at the moment. 

“I'm unhappy with _m-myself_ , Jemma. Not you. N-never you.'' That was the easiest part to say. There was more, but Fitz wasn't sure how Jemma would handle hearing it. He had to take the risk though, or they'd both just end up here, upset and hurting again without needing to. “I, I know you're just tryin’ t’, uh, make things easier for me. B-but I need t’ do things, uh, on my own. T’ try, try bein’ myself again. Sometimes… sometimes it feels, uh, it feels like everyone is just waitin’ for y’ t’, uh, speak for me. I can't be p-poor idiot Fitz, who, who has his girlfriend speakin’ for him.”

He saw Jemma open her mouth to protest his description, and Fitz quickly shook her off.

“I, I trust that y’ and, uh, the rest o’ our team don't think that, b-but I need the lab techs here t’ think that, too. T-that's why I, uh, asked for a quieter space. Easier t’ think, and m-maybe they'll think I can m-manage on my own.”

Fitz sighed and ducked closer to Jemma, resting his forehead against hers. Speaking that much at once had taken a bit out of him, but there was one more thing he wanted her to know. 

“And I did come back, Jemma. I, I brough’ tea and tried, uh, tried t’ call, b-because my hands were full, but I guess… Yeah. I'm s-sorry if I scared y’.”

Jemma could hear the truth and the logic in what Fitz was saying, but in her emotional state, it just sounded like another strike against her: another way she had failed him. She’d only had good intentions, but she’d still done him harm.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks, her hands clutching lightly at his arms. “I just--it breaks my heart to see you get so upset and frustrated when you struggle, that I want to help, and I...I’m sorry. I never meant to make things worse for you.” Her voice grew even smaller. “I didn’t hear you. I thought you were angry with me. I...I thought it was just the start…” 

“Not at y’, J-Jemma,” Fitz murmured, daring to press a kiss to her forehead. “Never, never you. I m-meant it. You are t-the best thing that's ever happened t’ me.”

It was the truth. Jemma had saved him at the Academy by being his friend, had taught him how to care for others as his girlfriend, and had literally saved his life in the field. She made him a better man all around, and Fitz would be damned if she didn't know it. 

“Can we make, make a deal? Y’ help me with my, uh, my rehab homework here, b-behind closed doors, and I'll, uh I'll promise t’ ask for help, when I need it. Is, is that okay?”

Jemma nodded, reaching up to curl her fingers around the wrist of his hand that was cupping her cheek, and tried to swallow down her tears. “I’ll try to leave you alone in the lab. I won’t...I’ll try not to pester you as much.”

Then she looked up a little, bumping her nose against his. “You know you’re the best thing that’s happened to me, too, right?” she said wetly. “Still. Always. I hate that you think you’re not enough for me because you _are_ , Fitz, you are, exactly the way you are. I wouldn’t change a thing about you. Just...I wish that you were happy. And it--I hate that I can’t help. I feel like...like I’ve failed you.”

He’d never been so simultaneously elated and heartbroken. It was one thing to have faith someone loved you, but to hear Jemma confirm what he meant made Fitz’ heart sing. At the same time, he was utterly destroyed by the fact she thought of herself as a pest. He never wanted her to think that, ever, and it didn’t entirely escape Fitz that he was just as guilty of selling himself short. Of thinking he wasn’t enough or couldn’t be enough for Jemma anymore. They really were perfect for each other, in both the best and worst ways possible. 

“Y’ haven’t failed me. I just, I’m still, still learning how my brain works now. I’ve been tryin’ t’ b-be who I was before… Maybe I need t’ quit on that. T’, t’ be happy, I mean. I need t’ figure out a new way o’ workin’.” He sighed, eyes slipping shut. As much as he knew he needed to accept the way his new brain worked, it didn’t make it any easier to say aloud. At least he had Jemma to talk to about it, though. “Can we, do y’ think, that m-maybe y’ can help me figure that out?”

Jemma nodded again, almost desperately, and moved her hands back to his upper arms, rubbing up to his shoulders. “Of course,” she said fervently. “Of course. I want to help you recover. I’m just...I’m sorry if I’ve been going about it the wrong way.” Her guilt surged again, threatening to overwhelm her, and she took a deep breath to try and steady herself. “I’m so sorry, for everything.” She took a tiny step forward into his space. “I love you.”

“Love y’ too.”

Fitz’ words were low and quick, belaying his eagerness to move on to something else he hadn't done in forever. Or at least it seemed that way. He tilted her chin up slightly so he could kiss her, taking a bit more care than he would have had to in the past, but making it no less heartfelt. Being with Jemma, being allowed to be affectionate with her and knowing he could trust her with everything meant the world to Fitz. Jemma was his home, and he was so happy to know he hadn't ruined things for them. 

He pulled away slowly, regretting that they had to part at all, but knowing they needed more than a few kisses to set things right. He needed time with Jemma, and he wanted to make sure they got that, starting now. 

“Should we clean up and, uh, change? Maybe watch s-somethin’ before bed?”

Jemma didn’t want to pull away--she wanted to kiss him again, drink him in, selfishly wrap herself around him and let herself get lost. Physical affection between them had taken a hard hit in some ways since Fitz had woken up from his coma, and she often found herself missing him, but hadn’t wanted to push for something he either wasn’t ready for or no longer wanted.

She sighed when he pulled away, slowly opening her eyes, and blinked at him. Then she nodded again and ducked her head, wiping at her wet cheeks and trying to get herself back together after such a rough crying jag. “Um--yes. That would--that would be good,” she said.

She stepped past him to go to the wardrobe, pulling out a camisole and her sleep shorts, then peeled off her cardigan and began unbuttoning the front of her sundress.

Fitz kept his eyes on her, at first to make sure she was truly okay, then for the simple pleasure of watching her, and finally because he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He thought maybe he should be ashamed of his staring - he had seen her in far less, in far more erotic situations - but Jemma was a sight to behold, and he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but affection for her. To still be allowed these little, intimate moments after everything that had happened could only be called a blessing, and Fitz gave himself a moment to be grateful before he started to strip out of his own clothes. 

He left them piled neatly on a chair in the corner, everything properly folded with his shoes and socks tucked beneath, leaving him in his boxers. He turned toward the bathroom only to find himself distracted once more by Jemma, this time because of the way her hair ruffled as she finished pulling her tank top over her head. He found it endearing, and Fitz snuck up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle against her shoulder. Things weren’t perfect, but maybe if they could keep this, this feeling, even during the rough times, it would be all right. 

Jemma sighed and leaned back into Fitz’s chest, closing her eyes as she folded her arms over his, slotting her fingers between his. And then she tried to relax. She still felt tense from crying and being upset, but she had never felt safer or more at peace than she did when she was in his arms, and that still held true. The press of his nose against the back of her shoulder and the small, lingering kiss he laid there melted her heart a little, and she reminded herself that this was the man she loved, and that he still loved her despite everything they’d gone through.

She let herself stay there for a moment more, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin through the thin fabric of her camisole, before standing straight and gently disentangling herself, taking his hand and tugging him toward the bathroom. “Come on,” she murmured. The faster they cleaned up, the quicker they could go relax in bed.

Jemma went straight to the sink, twisting the taps to splash some water on her face, first to wash away her tears, then to clean the makeup off her face. Once her skin was scrubbed clean, she grabbed her toothbrush and applied some paste, standing aside to make room for Fitz at the sink, and began brushing her teeth.

The vanity was tiny - a far cry from the double sink that was on her wishlist for their next flat - but Fitz didn’t mind the cramped conditions. With all of the talking they’d done tonight, and the emotion behind it, he wasn’t willing to let Jemma too far out of his sight, even just a few feet so she could wash her face and brush her teeth. He gave Jemma her turn, content to observe for the time being, before slipping in to ready his own toothbrush. 

He pulled a few faces at her in the mirror, trying to get her to crack a smile. He earned a soft one as Jemma finished up, and he gave her hip an affectionate squeeze as she padded back into the bedroom. He finished brushing his teeth, splashed some water on his face, and followed, happy to slip onto his half of the bed and pull Jemma close to him. He’d missed having her nearby last night, and didn’t hesitate to tell her as much now.

“I missed you too,” Jemma murmured, curling up next to him and immediately wrapping her arm tight over his waist, snugging herself in close. “I...I didn’t sleep very well without you here.” She took a moment to shut her eyes and drown her senses in him, beyond thankful that she had him back in her bed next to her. Then she remembered his suggestion, and cracked one eye back open. “Did you want to watch something?”

 _You_ was the first thought Fitz had, but he didn’t trust himself to pull off a line that suave. It would have earned him a soft chuckle, perhaps, which would have been nice, but he was happier just floating along on the contented feeling that seemed to fill him from head to toe. Instead he gave his head a small shake and pressed closer to Jemma. 

“This is really, um, really perfect.” Fitz skimmed his fingers over her waist briefly before he went back to holding her. “I’m sorry now I didn’t kick the door last night. I n-never meant for you t’ think I was mad.” 

Jemma turned her face into his neck, inhaling before pressing a kiss there. “That might have been a bit much,” she said quietly. “Maybe I should have come looking for you. I...I skipped dinner. I didn’t feel well. And when I realized you weren’t coming to bed I just--I didn’t have the heart to try.” She sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Fitz sighed at the sensation of Jemma’s lips on his neck, his eyes fluttering shut involuntarily at their soft press. As nice as it felt, it wasn’t enough to distract him from what she’d said, though, or how he felt about her apologizing for things that weren’t her fault. 

“Jemma, stop sayin’ ‘sorry,’” he answered, voice soft. “I m-mean it. We both should have d-done things differently last night, but we’re okay now.” Fitz gave her a quick hug, squeezing Jemma around her middle before loosening his hold. “Okay?”

Her immediate instinct was to repeat it despite him telling her not to, because she really was sorry for so many things, and didn’t feel like her apologies had even begun to make up for her failings and missteps. But she didn’t want to irritate him, so she held her tongue and instead wriggled to try and get closer to him, sliding her knee up over his and tightening her arm over his waist. It had only been one night away from him, but it still felt like too long.

And with everything that had been troubling her, it was hard not to reflect on how lucky she was to even still have him to begin with. She was keenly aware of how close she’d come to losing him, and seeing him struggle in the lab every day was a reminder of that, but sometimes it hit home harder than others. Right now was a particularly hard moment. Not for the first time, she found herself envisioning what it would have been like without him: falling asleep and waking up in an empty bed, working in the lab alone, no one to fully understand and complete her, feeling like a ghost walking through her own life, half of her heart and soul missing. It was too painful to contemplate, and almost made her tear up again. 

But she resisted, instead pressing another small kiss to Fitz’s neck. “Okay,” she whispered, and tried to feel that deep within her bones. Having him hold and cherish her like this was everything she’d wanted over the past two days. “I love you.”

Fitz knew Jemma well enough to know that she wouldn’t take well to his request, but he appreciated that she didn’t argue. What he appreciated even more was the way she snuggled up against him, even going so far as to loop her leg around his, as though she were afraid he might try to get away. As if that would ever happen. She hadn’t been the only one who’d had trouble sleeping the night before, and he was more than happy to keep sharing Jemma’s bed as long as she’d have him. 

At any other time, Fitz might have responded to her confession with a teasing, “I know,” but now didn’t seem like the time for that. Instead he nuzzled down so he could kiss her properly. The fit of his mouth against hers wasn’t quite perfect at this angle, but Fitz was happy to do his best to adjust. He took his time, just enjoying the ebb and flow of being able to do this. When he pulled back, he smiled at her, wide and genuine, and whispered, “Love y’, too, Jemma. Forever and always.”

Jemma let herself sink into the kiss, lifting her hand to cup the back of his head, threading her fingers through his hair. When he pulled away, she felt her heart glow at the way he smiled at her; she couldn’t quite recall the last time he’d looked at her with so much open love and affection. Hearing him affirm his feelings for her certainly didn’t hurt either. After the week she’d had, it felt as if they were renewing their commitment to each other, and it left her heart aching with love for him in a completely new way.

She felt herself smile back. It was still a little wobbly and wan, with her not feeling completely back to rights, but it was still heartfelt. “Forever and always,” she whispered back, combing her fingers through his hair. Then her smile twisted a bit sadly. “We’ll have to try another date again sometime,” she said. “Maybe when you feel more prepared for it.” 

Fitz couldn’t help but wince slightly at the reminder that he’d been a less than ideal date for Jemma. He hadn’t meant to act the way he had, or make her cry, but it had happened all the same. He owed her one to make up for it, and it was reassuring to know she was willing to give him the chance. His mind began to consider things they might do without having to venture too far from the base. 

“Another date sounds good.” Fitz leaned into Jemma’s touch, enjoying the feeling of her fingers in his hair and practically purring in response. “”M-maybe not a restaurant, though. Too many people. I was worried that, well, that I’d do something foolish.” He remembered the spilled glass of water and felt his cheeks heat. “And, well, I, I did, didn’t I?

“Next time, it might be nice t’ get out and walk around a bit.” He was sure they could find a park or a zoo to spend an afternoon in, although he’d have to make a point to not camp out in front of the monkey habitats. Jemma deserved to see what she wanted, too. 

“Think Coulson could be talked into givin’ us a whole weekend?” Fitz didn’t have high hopes for that, with things as they were, but it was a nice idea. A weekend away with Jemma, where he hopefully wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable and they could have some time just for the two of them. 

“No, you weren’t foolish, not at all,” Jemma said, continuing to run her fingers through his hair. “But we can do whatever you like. I’ll let you pick next time. Maybe that was part of the problem--I decided what we did, and put you in a situation you weren’t fully comfortable with.”

She had to fight against the instinct to apologize again, biting her lip to keep the words from tumbling out. While she waited for the guilt to die back down, she pressed a few kisses to the underside of his jaw. Then she said, with a fair amount of regret, “I doubt we could get an entire weekend away. Not while we’re still trying to get rid of Hydra. It is a lovely thought, though, isn’t it?” She sighed wistfully. “The last time you and I had any time away together was...oh, years ago. I’m not sure I even remember what we did.” She scrunched her nose, trying to remember, then sighed again. “If you could pick anywhere for us to go...what do you think you’d like to do?”

Fitz smiled at the way her nose scrunched, the familiar gesture warming him through. It was one of her tics that when pointed out Jemma would take pains to avoid, but he found it endearing. It was something she’d done since they were younger and it had always made him smile. Fitz pressed a kiss to her forehead to ease the little lines there and began to rub her back, his fingers moving in slow, easy arcs as he considered her question. 

“Uh, f-for a date or a weekend? Because a date’s easy - the zoo.” Fitz looked at Jemma like it was the simplest explanation in the world. Given that she didn’t look that surprised, he guessed his choice was the obvious one. “F-for a weekend, um, I dunno. I’d say home, but that needs more, more than just uh, a few days.” The States had become home thanks to Jemma, but he missed his mum. And being able to get a proper cuppa nearly everywhere. “M-maybe one of the cities we haven’t been t’ yet? Some place with, uh, enough t’ do, b-but not too crazy or crowded.”

“Of course you'd pick the zoo for a date,” Jemma replied, but she was smiling again, so she wasn't being mean. It was a good idea; she could find things to talk about there for hours, just as he could, and it would be nice to stroll through at their leisure to see the exhibits. 

Then she hummed thoughtfully, even as she relaxed into the hand he was stroking over her back. “I think a city trip would be nice. Seattle, maybe? Or Chicago? Or were you thinking of going abroad?” She frowned and slowed the motion of her fingers through his hair. “I always thought I'd want to visit a tropical island, or a beach, somewhere we could go snorkeling and see all the different species of fish on a reef, but...I think I've been ruined for all water activities for awhile.”

Fitz’ steady rhythm faltered when Jemma mentioned a beach vacation. There were numerous reasons he’d avoid the beach - sand, his propensity to burn, and their accident all on the list - but for the sight of Jemma in a bikini, he could be persuaded. And if they went somewhere tropical, there could still be monkeys. “Add it t’ the list,” he suggested, “of things we can do one day.

“I like the idea o’ Seattle and Chicago. Or, maybe, uh, a warmer city, if y’ want that. Austin was nice, the, uh, the little we saw o’ it. Wouldn’t mind goin’ back there for a bit.” He lapsed into silence for a bit, thinking. Suddenly, the corners of his mouth turned upward. “Think if we can p-play on Coulson’s sympathies long enough, he’d let us take Lola?”

Jemma let out a short burst of laughter, surprising herself, and ducked her face against Fitz’s chest as her shoulders shook. “Fitz,” she said, “you could be Coulson’s absolute favorite and he wouldn’t let you take Lola. If Skye can’t convince him, we don’t stand a chance.”

She was surprised that he’d actually consider a beach vacation, though, because just the thought of being near open water was enough to give her a panic attack. She didn’t think she would be able to manage it any time in the near future. 

Her laughter subsiding, she relaxed back against Fitz and thought about just being able to spend a day in a city with Fitz, hand in hand, being _normal_. She’d never known what being normal was like, not really, but the idea of getting to experience everyday couple things with him, that they couldn’t do on the base, was very appealing. “We should make a promise to ourselves to do it,” she said. “Someday. Soon. As soon as we even can, maybe. To just take a few days away for the two of us and just...be. We’ve never really had the chance to do that, have we?”

The truth of Jemma’s words hit Fitz as she spoke. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t much of an organization for taking time off, considering how often an international crisis could crop up. The only scheduled time off they’d ever taken at the same time had been during breaks in the academic schedule at SciTech, and even so it was just to go home and visit family. Hardly a proper vacation. 

“No we haven’t. It’d be nice t’ just, ah, sit somewhere and be lazy for a bit.”

Their conversation also raised questions in his mind about whether they’d ever get to take a vacation at all. Hydra and every other wannabe group of super villains didn’t seem keen on giving them a break. This entire conversation might just be an exercise in futility, but Fitz didn’t really care. The idea of getting time alone with Jemma, with no lab work or emergency situation or kidnapping, was too nice to pass up. 

“Let’s do it. Seriously, let’s, let’s pick a place and when things are, uh, when they settle down, we’ll go. Wherever y’ want.” Fitz honestly wasn’t as concerned about the destination as who would be traveling with him. He’d be happy to go pretty much anywhere, so long as Jemma was beside him. 

Jemma smiled up at him again and leaned up to kiss his cheek before settling back down against him. They spent a long while dreaming about where they would go and what they would do on their vacation, and even if the whole endeavor was hypothetical and would never come to pass, the planning of it at least was perhaps good. It gave them something to look forward to, something to hope for. It put a bright spot back in their lives.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explicit content warning!

The next day they went back to the lab with a renewed sense of purpose. Fitz went to his corner workstation and Jemma went to hers, and she did her level best to stay out of his hair and let him have space to breathe. She wasn’t as successful at first as she wanted to be, being so used to having and needing his constant input, but she got better at it. And she hoped that Fitz was finding his new working conditions better for himself. Things weren’t completely mended--Jemma still had her guilt that she needed to process and deal with, and Fitz had his insecurities--but they were better. They’d spoken and gotten things out in the open, and they were communicating.

A few days later, early in the afternoon, Coulson pulled Jemma from the lab into a closed-door meeting in his office. She was slightly confused and concerned, as usually any meeting that involved her usually also involved Fitz, or any other member of the team; rare was the occurrence that she was called in alone. But Coulson quickly made his reasons clear.

An important undercover mission was being put into play to infiltrate a top Hydra lab, to gain information on their operations, what they were developing, and how they planned to use it in the field. It would require a high level of knowledge and skill in the sciences, familiarity with equipment, and the ability to understand and deconstruct reports and technology. The assignment would be dangerous, open-ended without a definite end, and without backup. And Coulson wanted her for the job.

Jemma gaped at him in shock. “Sir, I...I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of what happened the last time I went undercover. It wasn’t exactly a success, I’m not very good at lying.”

Coulson gazed steadily at her. “You’ve grown a lot as an agent since then. We have every confidence that you’ll succeed this time.”

She bit her lip. “Well, I’ll need to talk it over with Fitz--”

He shook his head. “This is a classified op; you’re not authorized to talk to anyone about it, not even Fitz. The only people who have the clearance to know about it are myself and Agent May.”

Jemma boggled again. “But--sir, I’m Fitz’s primary care doctor. I can’t just leave him, not while he’s still recovering. He’s made amazing progress, yes, but he still has a way to go.”

Coulson gave her a shrewd look. “I’ve already taken the steps to ensure that he has another fully-qualified doctor assigned to his case. Now, are you lodging these complaints as his doctor, or as his girlfriend?”

Jemma stared at him.

“When the two of you first came to me and told me about your relationship, you told me that you wouldn’t let it affect your work with the team,” Coulson continued. “That was the basis for me not filing a formal Section 17. I know that doesn’t exist anymore, but your original promise still stands. You need to think about the commitments you made to S.H.I.E.L.D. as an agent, and your responsibility not to let your relationships interfere with that.”

Jemma swallowed, feeling as though the very air in the room had just become very heavy. Coulson’s expression wasn’t unsympathetic, but it was very firm. “When am I scheduled to leave?” she asked, only just managing to keep her voice steady.

“Two days,” Coulson replied. “And remember: not a word to anyone. You can tell them that you’re taking leave to visit your family.”

Jemma walked back to the lab in a sort of half-daze, and managed to get through the rest of the work day on autopilot. All she could think about was the fact that she was being sent undercover--forced to _leave_ , and worse than that, forced to _lie_. How could she look her friends in the eye and lie to them, knowing she was leaving and that things could go horribly wrong and she might never see them again? She was being sent into the den of the enemy, without any proper undercover or espionage training, without backup. Coulson and May had an awful lot of faith in her, thinking she could do this.

And the most terrible part--she would have to lie to Fitz. How could she tell him she was going to visit her parents when the leave time she took was supposed to be for them together? How could she look _him_ in the eye and say goodbye, knowing he would be expecting a text or a phone call from her when she ostensibly landed in England, but knowing it would never come and knowing he would go spare with worry when it didn’t? How would she manage going days, weeks, months without seeing or hearing from him? He’d become such a part of her day-to-day life that having him--having the whole team--completely cut out like that seemed like a death blow.

Jemma’s mind and heart were racing all through dinner, and she spent most of it considering disobeying a direct order. She wanted to tell Fitz everything, but she couldn’t. She knew she might be risking her own safety if she did. But she couldn’t _not_ tell him. Not after they’d promised each other to keep each other first. If she left him without any warning or any word, she might do irreparable damage to their relationship, and she couldn’t bear the thought of that.

When they went back to her bunk after dinner, she went to sit on the bed and twisted her hands together in her lap, her thoughts still running fast through her mind. She looked up at Fitz, who was kicking off his shoes, and felt her heart tug for him. She absolutely had to tell him. Had to.

“Fitz?” she said, carefully. “I...can we talk?”

Fitz froze momentarily as he processed the question, then he turned to Jemma with wide eyes. Those were never good words, if everything he’d ever picked up from pop culture was anything to go by. He had thought they were past this. The past few days had been going well at work, with both of them learning to find workarounds while his brain rewired itself, and there’d been nothing out of the lab the thought he should be worried about, but… 

His eyes fell on her hands, saw her wringing them together in that telltale way, and Fitz felt his heart drop. Whatever it was Jemma had to say, it wasn’t easy for her. He moved to sit next to her at the edge of the mattress and carefully reached out for her, slipping his hand between hers to link their fingers together. 

“S-sure, Jemma.” Fitz cleared his throat and leaned his shoulder against hers, hoping the contact would bring her some kind of comfort. He found it comforting, too, although not so much so that he was able to meet her eyes. “What is it?”

Jemma wrapped her fingers tightly through Fitz’s when he took her hands, looking down at them as she summoned up her nerves. She wasn’t technically disobeying a direct order...just sidestepping it. It was still a very risky thing for her to do, but she felt that he needed to know this. She just didn’t know how he would take it (but would bet that it wouldn’t be well).

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at him. He was frowning; she’d worried him. With good reason, she thought, but she pressed ahead. “I need you to listen to me very carefully,” she said quietly, looking him in the eyes. “And please don’t speak until I’m through.” Gauging that she had his attention, she swallowed. 

“My...I got a call from my father today. He--he needs me to come home to help with some important research.” Given that her father was a country veterinarian and therefore didn’t do research, this should have thrown up an immediate red flag for Fitz. “He didn’t give me a choice. I’ve got to go. I’ll be gone for quite awhile...not sure how long, really. He doesn’t know how long the research will take.” She squeezed his hands. “And while I’m gone, I won’t be able to call, text, or email. It--it could compromise the...the research. Dad’s orders.” Despite her efforts to remain composed, she could feel herself getting emotional, a lump forming in her throat as she essentially told him she would have to cut off all contact with him for the foreseeable future. She swallowed again. “Do you--do you...understand what I’m saying?”

Fitz’s concern only deepened the more Jemma spoke. Her father spent the majority of his time birthing calves and checking over flocks of sheep; he wouldn’t need his daughter, with her PhDs in biochemistry and xenobiology, to help him research anything. Nor would he ever forbid Jemma from calling him. While the elder Dr. Simmons hadn’t much cared for his teenage daughter having a live-in boyfriend Stateside, he had never been anything less than cordial toward Fitz, particularly after he’d warned the young Scot off hurting his daughter. Fitz would even venture to say the man liked him, all things considered. 

The only other person Jemma could be talking about was Coulson. Skye had joked about him being their surrogate father for ages, and Fitz would be that was the “dad” whose orders Jemma had to follow. Fitz swallowed heavily and squeezed her hand tighter. If she was being told no contact, no end date… Whatever he was sending her on was dangerous. That terrified him. 

“Y-you’re goin’ off grid. No, no contact…” He trailed off as the blood drained from his face. All kinds of things could happen to her, and he would never know. No one would ever tell him, hiding behind clearance levels and need-to-know-basis. It was enough to make him sick. “Jemma… p-promise you’ll come back t’ me.” 

She let go of his hands to reach up and frame his face with hers, stroking her thumbs over his cheekbones. “You know I will do everything I can do to come back to you,” she said fiercely. “I promise. But--you can’t let on that I’ve said anything. Not yet. It’s--it’s classified. He...you...he told me to lie to you. About where I was going. But I…” She shook her head as she looked at him pleadingly, begging him to understand. “I couldn’t.” 

She couldn’t tell him where she was going, or what she was doing, but she could tell him this much, and to her, it was much better than a lie. It felt more like the truth, and less like she was leaving him behind on pretense to worry without knowing what had really happened to her.

His hands came up to wrap around her wrists, as though that small point of contact could keep her in place. Could keep her with him instead of sending her into the field. Fitz was terrified for her. Jemma was a fantastic field scientist and had come a long way during their time on the Bus, but to go undercover and to go in without contact, it all felt too risky for his liking. He knew Coulson valued Jemma as an agent, but for Fitz she was so much more. 

He could feel himself trembling as he scanned Jemma’s face, uncannily feeling the way he had in the medpod. Fitz was afraid he’d never see her again, and it had his heart racing. He swallowed, trying to steady himself, and nodded. Jemma needed him to hold it together, to not fall apart while she was away. She’d worry about him as it was; if she thought he was going to pieces, she might not concentrate the way she should. She might slip up, and then… Fitz didn’t want to think about that possibility. 

“It’s okay, J-Jemma. Well, not okay, but-” Fitz let out a shaky breath. “I won’t let on I know. P-promise.” 

Jemma gave him the most tremulous of smiles, and nodded. “You’ll have a part to play, too,” she said. “When you don’t hear from me...you’ll be worried. And I know you--you’ll want to ask questions.” She huffed a brief, thin laugh, thinking that Fitz wouldn’t really have to act at all when he inevitably confronted Coulson, wanting to know where she was. Whether or not he would actually be able to hide what he knew would be up to him. 

Then she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his and continuing to smooth her thumbs over his cheeks, as if that could soothe him--she knew he was upset. She could feel him shaking, could feel it in herself, too, from holding back her emotions and her own terror at what lay ahead for her. “I’m leaving in two days,” she said quietly, knowing this would cut him to the quick.

 _Two days_. Two days wasn’t enough to say goodbye to her, not by a long shot. Fitz’ mind raced with a million different _what ifs_ , each more tortuous than the last, but he pushed them aside. Jemma was here now and they were together. They’d have to make do with that. He let go of her wrists, his hands drifting down her arms as he nodded. Fitz would do everything she asked. He’d do his part to keep her safe. 

“I love y’. So, so much. Y’, y’ know that, right?” 

He felt her nod against him and Fitz leaned in to kiss her, wanting to get as much of Jemma as he could before she left. Wanting to give just as much of himself to her, to carry with her when she was in the field. He had meant for it to be soft, something slow and loving, something to reassure them both, but his emotion got away from him. Instead Fitz found himself pressing forward blindly, tugging at Jemma to try to get as close to her as he possibly could, while he could. 

Jemma felt the instant the kiss changed, turning needy and more than a bit heated. She let herself respond in kind, kissing him back just as ardently, and let Fitz pull at her until she had no choice but to climb into his lap, straddling him, her chest pressed against his. There, she took his face in her hands again and kissed him over and over again, desperately, as if she were trying to imprint the taste and the feel of him on her. There would never be enough time left to kiss him enough, or hold him enough, but she would try. 

Fitz gasped at the feel of Jemma, pressed closer than she’d been in months. Closer than he’d let her because he’d been so afraid. It was a different kind of fear coursing through him now, sharper, demanding that something be done to placate it. It was the fear that he’d never see her again, and Fitz was doing all that he could to hold it at bay. He wrapped an arm around Jemma’s waist and held her in place, needing to feel the warm, soft weight of her above him. 

“Jemma,” he whispered, his tone reverent and awed. “Jemma, Jemma, Jemma.” He repeated her name like a mantra between kisses, unaware that he was doing it and unable to stop. 

With one arm securing Jemma in his lap, Fitz allowed the other to drift along her thigh, drawing nonsense patterns from her knee up to her hip, simply for the joy of touching her - and in the hope he’d draw a reaction from her. When she whimpered, he took full advantage, slipping his tongue along the seam of her lips and into her mouth to duel with hers. Before long Fitz found himself panting, torn between his desire to move forward and the uncertainty that he should. 

Jemma slid her hands into Fitz's hair as he deepened their kiss, feeling her nerves come alive and her blood sing with desperate, needy desire. They hadn't been this close or passionate since the night before the medpod and she'd missed it, so much, but at first Fitz had his physical recovery to focus on, and as time had passed and he'd regained his strength, she’d wondered if he wasn’t ready or was just no longer interested. Either way, she hadn't wanted to pressure him.

But this was almost too much: whispering her name between heated kisses, his tongue stroking over hers, his hand wandering up and down her thigh. She wanted more of him, but was so afraid he would tell her to stop at any moment. Yet she couldn't stop from trying to give more of herself. She kissed him again, long and deep, and rolled her hips down into his. She could feel him, half hard through her jeans, and it sent a hot tingle rushing down her spine. Wanting him this way right now might not be wise, but all she knew was that she needed to be close to him, to connect with him, before she was taken away for god knows how long.

She broke their kiss and pressed their foreheads together again, still close enough that their lips brushed when she spoke. “Fitz,” she whispered, “I…”

Fitz moaned at hearing Jemma’s voice, low and heavy with yearning, a perfect echo of what he was feeling. The hand that he’d been running along her leg slipped up, over her hip and beneath her shirt to tease the soft skin of her waist. She was warm, so warm, and perfect and everything he could ever want. And by some miracle, she wanted him, too. 

“T-tell me what y’ want.” The pounding of his heart nearly drowned out his words, but Fitz pressed on. “Anything y’ want, baby girl. It’s yours.” 

Jemma sucked in a breath, her head swimming with desire and possibility. She didn't want to push him, but if he was offering…

Her breath coming short and fast, she drew her hands from his hair, down to run over his shoulders and his chest, then back up to cradle his face again, and brushed her nose alongside his. “You,” she whispered, still afraid he might deny her. “Please. I need you. Just...please.”

That was all Fitz needed to hear. He chased after her mouth to claim another kiss before turning his attention to her top. Too impatient to bother with the buttons, he tugged at the hem, pulling it up and over Jemma’s head only to discard it. Fitz sucked in a deep breath and licked his lips as he took her in, eyes roaming over the freckles that dotted her chest and disappeared beneath her bra. She was perfect. Perfect and his. 

Fitz pressed a kiss to the center of Jemma’s chest, directly over her heart. He trailed his mouth out from there, kissing and nipping and teasing along the edge of her bra. He took his time, reacquainting himself with the different sounds Jemma made when he did this, and caught her hips with his hands. Anticipating how Jemma would react, he pulled her down against his arousal just as he used his tongue to tease her nipple through the thin material of her bra. 

Jemma gasped sharply, trailing off on a moan, her fingers clenching in his hair where she’d been cradling his head to her. She was certain Fitz could hear, even feel, the frantic beating of her heart, and knew how much she wanted him, but even this wasn’t enough. Rolling her hips into his again-- _god_ , he felt good, too good--she let go of his hair to reach behind her to undo the clasp of her bra herself, then leaned back just enough to slide the straps down off her arms and toss it away. Before Fitz could fixate on her breasts, though, she pulled his face up to kiss him, and started pushing off his cardigan and fumbling at the buttons to his shirt, eager to get to his bare skin.

Fitz whimpered a bit in protest at being denied what he was after, finding it deeply unfair that Jemma would treat him to the sight of her naked breasts only to keep him from giving them the attention they deserved. He helped her tug off his own clothing, fingers flying over the buttons Jemma couldn’t reach so she could finish pushing it off his shoulders and onto the floor. That done, Fitz leaned in to kiss her, pulling her flush against him so he could feel the way her chest rose against his as she tried to catch her breath. The way Jemma panted against his mouth as their lips met again was one of the most erotic things of his life, pulling a groan from deep in Fitz’ chest. 

Arousal zinged through him, and Fitz rocked his hips up into Jemma, tempted by the heat of her even through the thick denim of their jeans, only to find himself stymied. There wasn’t enough give in the fabric to let him as near to her as he wanted, and so Fitz worked a hand between them, quickly opened the fly of her jeans, and slipped his fingers in to brush against the front of her knickers. His fingertips found a damp patch there and Fitz moaned loudly into Jemma’s mouth, any concern about his ability to please her flung from his mind. 

The feeling of Fitz's bare chest against hers was everything Jemma had wanted and missed these past months, and now that she had it again, she didn't know why they had waited so long. She moaned at the rush of pleasure being so close to him gave her, panting against his lips between addictive kisses, and wrapped her arms around him, sliding a hand back into his hair so she could keep him close.

When he stroked his fingers over the front of her knickers, she broke their kiss with a gasp, her hips instinctively arching into his touch, seeking more. She didn't know what she wanted to do more then: let him explore and tease her more in that cramped and awkward position, push him down and lavish him with attention, or beg for more herself. 

Maybe she could have some of all of it. Pushing her hips into his questing fingers again, she moved to press kisses over his cheek to his ear, where she tugged his earlobe into her mouth and bit gently before kissing over the shell of his ear. 

“Fitz,” she whispered, one of her hands trailing down to tug at one of the belt loops on his jeans. “I want to feel more of you. Please.” She loosened her thighs from where they bracketed his hips, telling him she was willing to move if he would have her do so.

The idea of separating from Jemma was unbearable, even if only for a few moments and for the sake of shedding the rest of their clothes. Fitz stilled for a moment, trying to jar his brain into action so he could make a decision, but it was near impossible. It was only the heat radiating off her center that gave him any resolve at all. He could tease her in this position, but he wanted to give Jemma so much more. 

Biting back a sigh, he encouraged her to slide off his lap, steadying her as her feet hit the floor. Fitz couldn’t help but lick his lips as he looked over Jemma, the sight of her with her hair wild, nude but for her open jeans stoking his desire further. He made quick work of his trousers, undoing them and shifting them just far enough down his thighs to give him a bit more range of movement before looking to Jemma. 

Fitz helped her slide her jeans over her hips and down to the floor, barely waiting for them to clear her feet before he tugged her back onto his lap. Even with his boxers and her panties between them, Jemma’s heat pulled a whimper from him. Fitz curled his fingers around her hips again and pulled her down against his erection, doing his best to stifle his moan against her shoulder. 

Jemma had just enough time to see the bulge tenting the front of his boxers before Fitz pulled her back to him, and she straddled him again eagerly, almost desperate to feel him against her with fewer layers between them.

She wasn't as successful at holding back her moan as Fitz was. Her eyes closed and her head fell back as she repeated the motion with her hips, slowly, dragging out the sensation. She loved the feeling of his hands on her hips and her clit grinding against the length of him, even through their clothes. It made her tremble with pleasure, heat pooling in her belly, her body aching for more. She couldn't get enough, would never be able to get enough--not enough to get her through whatever dark days lie ahead.

That thought made her clutch Fitz closer, rotating her hips down against his and pressing kisses along his hairline, his temple, wherever she could reach, letting out little gasps and moans as he ground up into her and his fingers clenched over her hips. She wanted to give him everything he needed from her.

Fitz was just as eager to please, needing to see Jemma break apart in his arms. He guided her in a steady rhythm against his cock, meeting her on each stroke to give them both the most pleasure possible at the moment. Once he was certain Jemma would maintain it, he brought one hand up to caress her breast, teasing her nipple to a hard point beneath his fingers as Fitz lowered his mouth to tease the other one. He suckled at her, savoring the sounds she made, the sounds _he_ pulled from her. 

Fitz knew he was a fool. They could have been doing this for ages, but he’d let his fear that he wasn’t enough for her keep him away. And now he was facing months without her. That thought was the only thing that kept him grounded, or Fitz very likely would have embarrassed himself by ruining his shorts then and there. Although it was still a close thing when he slipped a hand between them, tugged her knickers to the side, and allowed his fingers to skim over her slick folds. 

It didn't take Fitz long to work Jemma into a dizzy state of passion and longing; she was already so turned on, eager to have him again, that it wouldn't have taken much, but he knew exactly what to do to send her spiraling to even greater heights of pleasure.

She clutched at his shoulders as his mouth and hands worked at her, her breaths coming hard and fast, her eyes closed and mouth dropped open in a haze of desire. His tongue stroking and laving at her nipple was almost too much, making her entire body feel alive with an electric buzzing, hypersensitive to every touch, making her moan helplessly as she rocked against him.

And when he touched her, slicking his fingers through her folds and up to circle her clit, she cried out and bucked against him, desperate for more, anything to satisfy the sharp ache between her thighs. “Fitz,” she moaned, arching into him, “god, Fitz, please--”

Hearing like Jemma beg for him like that, her voice raw with wanting, set him on fire. It made Fitz want to take her then and there, hard and fast, without thought, losing themselves in each other until they couldn't tell where he ended and Jemma began. It would have been so easy to do, and Fitz found himself gritting his teeth to resist doing just that, tempting as it was. 

Instead he scooted back on the mattress, making sure he had enough room to maneuver before he flipped them. It was nowhere near as graceful as Fitz would have liked, but he was beyond caring. And if the way Jemma whimpered at the loss of contact was anything to go by, she didn't care much either. 

Fitz levered himself back over her in a flash, pulling Jemma’s hands above her head and pinning them there as he ground his hips down against hers. They groaned in unison, the sensation of being so close to where they wanted to be too good to ignore. Fitz leaned down to take her nipple in his mouth once more, enjoying the full body shiver that ran through Jemma before he leaned over to rifle through the bedside table for a condom. 

Jemma was lucky she even had any condoms; the box she'd had on the Bus had gotten lost in the confusion of the breakdown of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the transition to the Playground. But Skye had brought her some a few months back after coming back from a supply run, handing them off with a wink and a nudge. Jemma had been too embarrassed to say that she and Fitz hadn't been intimate, but now she was incredibly glad Skye had given them to her.

While Fitz was distracted searching through the drawer, Jemma took the opportunity to reach down to slip off her knickers, pressing kisses to Fitz's shoulder as she did so. Then she pushed at his boxers and jeans, trying to shove them the rest of the way off as well. She kissed up his neck as he kicked them off and to the floor, turning back to her with a condom packet, but before he could open it, she caught him for a hard, passionate kiss, trying to communicate how much she loved and wanted him.

Then she slid her hand down to wrap her fingers around his length, moaning quietly at how hard and hot he felt. She gave him one good, firm stroke, feeling a shock of lust go through her at the way he groaned and shuddered above her, and a second later she was taking the foil condom packet from him.

“Let me,” she breathed, tearing it open, then rolled it down over him.

Fitz nearly lost it at the feeling of Jemma's hand on him, his hips instinctively thrusting into her touch, chasing the sensation after going so long without. There was no way he'd be able to take his time, but as long as he could take care of Jemma first, he would be happy. At least that way he wouldn't embarrass himself. 

He tried to distract himself by focusing on Jemma's neck, laying hot, open mouth kisses along her throat as he worked his way down to her collarbone. It worked to a degree, until Jemma shifted her hips beneath him, pressing her wet core against his erection. He groaned, dropping his forehead to her chest even as he canted his hips forward, pushing against her with purpose, teasing them both with what was to come. 

“Jemma,” he murmured against her skin, “Jemma… Chris’, I want y’.” He nuzzled against her cheek before slanting his mouth against hers and reaching down to notch himself against her entrance. 

Jemma moaned into their kiss, tilting her hips and drawing her knees up to let him in just a little further, then reaching down to grab his arse and encourage him to push in all the way. She moaned again at the feeling of him filling her perfectly after so long, hooking her ankles around the back of his thighs and swiveling her hips in a tiny circle when he was buried in her to the hilt.

Then she ran her hands up to wrap around his shoulders again, kissing him deeply. She'd felt a hot shock of lust at hearing Fitz say he wanted her, and it made her feel powerful in a way. She arched up against him, rolling her hips up again to feel the delicious press of him inside her, and broke their kiss to whisper, “Fitz, god, you feel so good…”

That was the end of his self control. It hadn't been much to start with, but having her whisper that to him was his undoing. All Fitz was able to think of was how hot she was, snug around him, and what he wouldn't give to stay with her forever. “Perfec’,” he sighed back, nipping none too gently at her lower lip before soothing it with his tongue. “You're p-perfec’.”

With the way Jemma had arched her body, Fitz was easily able to slip a hand beneath her and, with his palm splayed wide over her bum, held her flush against him as he found his rhythm. It took Fitz a moment to find an angle that would work for them both, but when he felt Jemma flutter around him, her nails biting into his shoulders, he knew he had it. He picked up the pace, giving up any pretense of being gentle in favor of the raw need that had settled in his belly, letting the emotion of the moment carry them both higher. 

Jemma met Fitz’s every thrust with a roll of her hips, the angle he'd found hitting that perfect spot inside her every time, leaving her gasping as pleasure swelled within her. The way they moved together was almost frantic, their urgency driving them to try and push each other toward bliss as fast as they could.

She moved to lock her ankles together at the small of his back, and that change in angle made stars burst behind her eyelids. She found herself chanting his name, over and over, crying out her pleasure and begging him to drive her higher, even as her movements and her arms wrapped around his back encouraged him to thrust harder, to completely lose himself in her.

Bracing his knees against the mattress, Fitz did just that, establishing an almost punishing pace, his release coiling in his gut. He was dimly aware that the bedframe was hitting the wall, that he might be leaving bruises with how tightly he was holding Jemma, but he didn't care. A part of him _hoped_ he'd leave a mark (or two) on her fair skin. Something Jemma could see when she was undercover. His only regret was that they would fade eventually.

That reminder that she'd be leaving him only upped his urgency, as impossible as that seemed. With a low growl, he attached his mouth to Jemma's neck, working up what would likely be an impressive mark as he redoubled his efforts. Fitz swiveled his hips on the downstroke, grinding more firmly against Jemma's clit in the hopes he'd be able to get her off before his own release broke over him. 

It was all Jemma could do to hold on and not be swept away by all of the emotion and sensation Fitz was drawing out of her. She didn't think they'd ever been this frantic or desperate, but she couldn't get enough of him like this--the way he held her so close, the way his cock felt pumping in and out of her, bottoming out on every stroke, the almost primal way that he was taking her. 

It made the pleasure he was stoking up inside up crescendo until her release broke over her in a sharp, intense wave, her back arching and her limbs seizing around him as her entire body shuddered with the force of her release, crying out one final time.

Fitz tumbled over the edge right along with her, hilting inside Jemma with a guttural shout, shaking through his release, the edges of his vision going a bit black. He nearly collapsed on top of Jemma, intertwined as they were, but caught himself on his elbows at the last second. Fitz still let his head fall forward though, his forehead coming to rest on Jemma's chest. 

He closed his eyes as he tried to regain control over his breathing, his hand stroking gently over Jemma's side. Eventually he found the strength to lift off her, rolling to the side to flop on the mattress and throwing an arm over Jemma's waist. He needed to clean up, but he couldn't stand to be too far from her just yet. 

“Love y’,” Fitz murmured, looking every inch the lovesick fool. 

Jemma lay with her eyes shut, taking in deep lungfuls of air, trying to regain control of her breathing and slow the beating of her heart. She shivered a few times as aftershocks ran through her, pleasure whispering along her limbs, leaving her feeling sated and heavy-limbed.

When Fitz spoke, she rolled her head to face him and smiled, slow and lazy, reaching over to entwine her fingers with his where his hand rested over her waist. “I love you too,” she whispered, her eyes shining, her heart full of emotion. “So, so much.”

Fitz leaned over and palmed her cheek, looking her in the eye. He knew Jemma wouldn't believe him, but she'd never looked so gorgeous, half out of breath, cheeks flushed, and hair a mess. A distinctly male part of Fitz crowed in pleasure at seeing her that way, and he swooped in for a quick kiss. 

“Be right back,” he whispered, rolling off the bed to take care of the used condom. He hurried to clean up so he could get back to her, eagerly slipping back next to Jemma and curling around her. Fitz wanted to hold her as much as he could, before she had to go. 

“I wish,” he began, sounding more than a little wistful, “you could take s-somethin’ with y’. A burner phone, anythin’...” As much as Fitz may wish for it, he knew Jemma couldn't do that. It would only put her in danger, and he couldn't stand that. 

Jemma sighed as she wrapped an arm around him in turn, pressing a kiss to his cheek and leaving her face there, her nose and lips brushing against his skin. “I know,” she murmured. “I wish I could take _anything_ with me.”

Coulson had explained to her that having any personal mementos with her that called back to her life at S.H.I.E.L.D. would be dangerous, especially if Hydra were to search her belongings at work or, even worse, invade the studio apartment they'd rented for her. That meant she would have to leave her personal phone behind, and she wouldn't be able to take any photos or letters with her. It would truly be a cold, hard separation from everyone, and to say that Jemma was dreading it was a vast understatement. 

She tilted her face to press her forehead against his temple. “I'm scared,” she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper.

That tore at Fitz, to hear Jemma admit she was scared to go. He'd give anything to take that on for her, and for a moment he felt incredibly angry at Coulson for putting that on her. It wasn't fair, but griping about that wouldn't help Jemma any. She'd been supporting him for so long; now it was time for Fitz to return the favor. 

“I know,” he whispered back, tightening his arm around her and pressing a kiss to Jemma’s crown. “I don't know if this helps at all, but, uh, I'll be thinkin’ about y’. Every day, until y’ come home.” Fitz knew he'd be a wreck, too, but he wouldn't tell Jemma that bit. It would only worry her more, and she didn't need that. “And y’ _will_ come home. Coulson wouldn't, wouldn't take a foolish risk with y’ in the field.” 

“It does help,” she replied, still quiet, and snuggled into him, wanting the intimacy of skin-to-skin contact. “I promise. It does.” She wasn't sure she should admit that knowing he was expecting her to come back to him would probably help her get through her days, giving her an incentive to make it through. Doing her job for S.H.I.E.L.D. was certainly enough on its own, but thinking of Fitz might help mitigate the inevitable loneliness. 

That, or make it worse.

“And I'll be thinking of you, too. Every day. Every morning and night.” She sighed. “I promise I'll do everything I can to get the job done and come home as soon as I can. I...I can't help but think he's placing an awful lot of trust and faith in me, though. I don't exactly have a proven track record in the field. But...he's confident I can do it. And he didn't give me a choice.” 

She craned her neck to look at him. “And that's the thing. If I had to choose between taking the mission or staying here with you, seeing you through the rest of your recovery...I'm honestly not sure what I would do. He, ah...reminded me that you and I swore we wouldn't let our relationship interfere with our work, when I raised my objections. I...I think the line may be starting to blur.”

As far as Fitz was concerned, their promise had disintegrated along with S.H.I.E.L.D. The work was no less important, but the reemergence of Hydra had only served to show Fitz how precious the people he loved were. He'd place Jemma above everything else, no questions asked, although he knew she still felt a duty to their agency. Fitz supposed he did, too, but he was much more willing to walk away now than he'd been a year ago. 

“Do y’ think that, uh, maybe it's time t’, t’ talk about walkin’ away? After y’ get back?” They'd talked about it before, but the time had never felt right. Even now, Fitz wasn't sure it was. There was his rehab to consider, and if Coulson was sending Jemma into the field something big was in play. They might not even be able to walk away once she came back, but he wanted to give her the option. 

“I don't know.” Jemma hugged him tighter. “Leaving now would feel wrong, I think. They need us. S.H.I.E.L.D. is so short on agents right now that Coulson needs all the help he can get. And...they're like family now. Aren't they?” She frowned, concerned. “I suppose being assigned this mission has given me doubts. Or concerns, more like. It's just...I don't want to leave you. Not while you're still recovering.” She huffed a short, sour laugh, not wanting to put words to her next thought. “Even though...me leaving for awhile might actually _help_ you, in the end.”

“Jemma,” he warned, voice low. He knew she thought she was hampering his recovery, but Fitz wanted her with him. He felt more _normal_ when Jemma was with him, and he was worried about the prospect of working in the lab without her while she was away. “We're better together. Always.”

Fitz absentmindedly ran his hand along her arm, hoping to soothe the worry he saw on her face. “I mean it, Jemma. I'd always rather be with you than without you.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But you said yourself that I fill in too much for you sometimes. With...without me here, you can better learn to speak without me always interrupting you.”

It hurt to say, and she knew Fitz wanted her to stay-- _she_ wanted to stay, of course--but cold hard reality dictated that maybe it would do good for her to leave for a little while. Who knew, maybe by the time she came back, Fitz would be stuttering less and finding his words easier. She hated the thought that she wasn't what he needed, but perhaps in some ways it was the truth.

But for the moment she just wanted to hold him close and soak in everything about him that she could. She had so many fears and worries about the upcoming mission, and she had no idea how she would get through it without any support.

“You don't interrupt,” Fitz protested, even though he knew he wasn't strictly true. She might cut him off at times, but it was only with the best of intentions. The idea that he might have to do without bothered Fitz, more than he'd ever admit. “All you're tryin’ t’ do is help.”

He moved from skimming his hand over her arm to rubbing her back, enjoying the way it pressed her naked body into his. Fitz thought he'd appreciated the sensation before, but now that she was leaving, it took on a whole other meaning. Fitz found himself hoping he could imprint the feeling of himself on her skin, hoping he could leave Jemma with a memory to carry with her. 

“What- what do y’ need from me, Jemma?”

Jemma sighed, lifting a hand to stroke over his chest, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin beneath her fingertips. “I think...I just need this. Being here, with you, while I can.” 

She looked up, then reached up to cup his cheek and tilt his face down so she could kiss him, fitting her lips to his and pressing in, long and slow, like they had all the time left in the world.

Fitz sank into the kiss, taking his time mapping Jemma's mouth, savoring her taste and the feeling of her lips against his. Even though he knew better, he wished he could slow time, freeze them in that moment forever, together and happy and safe. 

He couldn't though, and the seconds continued to tick by as they kissed, each one inching them toward the moment Jemma would have to leave the Playground. His heart beat faster at the thought, his stomach turning in protest, but Fitz did his best to just focus on Jemma, doing his best to be everything she needed. 

“We'll, we'll make it through this,” he murmured between kisses. “If we made it… If we made it back from Cuba, we'll survive this, too.”

There were so many things that Jemma wanted to say, to confess, but she didn't want to worry Fitz more than she knew he already was. He didn't need that additional stress. So she drew on her internal well of strength, and kissed him with all the love she felt, and nodded at his affirmations. 

“I know,” she said, then kissed him again. “I _will_ come back. I just wish I could give you a definite return date. But I can't even do that. All I can do is tell you I love you and hope that it's soon.”


	9. Chapter 9

Jemma meant what she said. Fitz knew it and cherished that fact, but it didn't make it any easier to accept that she'd be leaving. They spent their last hours together whenever they could, exchanging kisses and making love, storing memories up for the time they'd be separated. Fitz tried to tell himself that it would be okay, that he could live with having only this, but he was wrong. It was still difficult watching Jemma pack her suitcase, knowing everything she was putting in the bag would only end up in S.H.I.E.L.D. storage for the time being. 

Still, he carried it to the hangar and made a show of saying goodbye to Jemma, kissing her at the foot of the boarding ramp and asking her to say hi to her parents for him in earshot of Coulson. Hopefully that would be enough to cover for her with their commanding officer for the time being, although Fitz had a list of other things a love-sick boyfriend might do while his girlfriend was away. He'd be sure to carry them out periodically, sending messages to Jemma's phone and email. She'd get them eventually, whenever she could have access to them again anyhow. 

Fitz watched as the quinjet took off, waving until it disappeared from sight and the hangar doors closed. He sighed, missing Jemma already, and sent a plea to the universe to keep her safe while she was away from him. That done, Fitz turned and trudged toward the lab, intent on burying himself in work to distract from the fact that Jemma wouldn't be with him. 

The hardest part for Jemma was not making a big show of saying goodbye to Fitz in the hangar. They’d already had their private goodbye in her bunk, where she’d hugged him and he’d held onto her for minutes on end without wanting to let go, close to tears, desperate to savor every bit of contact they could before they were separated. And she’d kissed him too, over and over, never wanting to stop. Their farewell in the hangar was much more muted in contrast, far more suited to a couple who thought they were parting only for a week or so. Jemma trusted Fitz to keep up his end of the play in her absence, and to start asking questions and kicking up a fuss when it would start to become apparent that she had simply vanished--or so it seemed.

At first, it was almost easy to convince herself she actually was on a vacation of sorts. The small studio apartment she was delivered to, while lacking any real homey touches, was comfortable and lived-in, in a nice section of the city, only a short walk and bus ride away from the lab where she would be working. She got her things unpacked and stored away, then went on a quick grocery run to fill her fridge and pantry. The illusion was ruined, though, when she was done with her errands and she realized she had no one to talk to. She couldn’t contact Fitz, Skye, or Trip, and she didn’t know anyone in her new city. Coulson had encouraged her to make friends as part of her new cover, but that wouldn’t start until she reported for her new job. 

Lacking anything else to do, Jemma decided to turn in for bed early, telling herself she needed the extra rest in order to prepare for her first day at her new job--the first day of her very dangerous undercover mission. But the bed was large and empty without Fitz to take up the extra space, and that plus her worries about the mission kept her tossing and turning all night.

She wasn’t sure she had ever been as afraid as she was when she went to work for Hydra that first morning. They were located in a nondescript office building in the center of the city, hidden in plain sight. No one seemed to know that evil was right next door to them. And she was certain that she would be made as soon as she stepped foot inside the door, but the lab supervisors who were in charge of her orientation seemed to buy her cover story with no problem whatsoever: she was a disgruntled former S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist who had come to Hydra for the opportunity to conduct real work without the pesky boundaries of ethics or fundings. She was shown to one of the lower-level labs, assigned a workstation, and introduced to her partner, a cynical and somewhat sour man named Kenneth.

And that was how Jemma came to find herself coming to work every day at Hydra, putting on the mask of cheerful employee every day, making friends with the security guard at the front entrance of their building, doing her mind-numbing assigned tasks every day, and hoping to find even a scrap of interesting information on Hydra’s activities that could help S.H.I.E.L.D. out. She did bi-weekly reports via dead drops but never heard back, due to the nature of keeping her cover safe. Coulson had said that if they needed to pass orders along, they would have ways of getting that information to her; otherwise, she didn’t need to worry. In the evenings, she came home to her empty apartment and watched the news, read magazines or watched movies, and tried not to think about how lonely she was.

Yes, Coulson had told her to make friends as a way of strengthening her cover and possibly finding out information that way--you never knew what you might find out via office gossip, he’d said--but Jemma was struggling in that department. It wasn’t just that everyone else in the lab already had their set social circles or that she had always been kind of the odd one out anyway before she’d met Fitz; it was that she didn’t even want to be friends with these people in the first place. If they were okay with working for an organization like Hydra, she really wanted nothing to do with them. 

Days turned into weeks turned into months, and Jemma began to fear her assignment might never end. She still hadn’t found anything useful, her lab duties hadn’t changed, and she suspected she was being held back from advancing up the ranks at Hydra for some unknown reason. She missed everyone terribly, and without having anything of them to go on, she worried that her memories were beginning to fade. She couldn’t quite remember the way Skye laughed, and she was beginning to doubt the sense memory of Fitz’s arms around her, the way he kissed her. She hadn’t had a status update from Coulson in a few weeks, and she didn’t know how much longer she could go on, living in a state of constant low-level fear.

Playing the long game was much more difficult than Fitz had anticipated. It simply didn’t gel with his natural stubbornness and temper, making him even more twitchy and irritated than usual in the lab. At least it played well with Coulson. He didn’t even have to pretend to be upset the first time he went into the older man’s office, two days after Jemma’s departure to ask why she hadn’t made contact. All Coulson would say was that it was Jemma’s choice whether she called or not. Fitz nearly snarled at that. The Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was meant to be the best of the best when it came to subterfuge; the best he could do was imply his girlfriend was ghosting him?

Fitz gave it a few more days before he actually tried calling Jemma’s mobile. He received a message that service to the line had been terminated, and his surprise was such that he didn’t have to do much acting when he stormed into Coulson’s office demanding answers. His boss let him rant himself out, simply giving him that same level, infuriating stare until Fitz struck on a trump card. Pulling out his own mobile, he pulled up the contact card he had for Jemma’s father. 

“M-m-maybe I should just call her father myself. Ask t’, t’ speak with Jemma, have her explain-”

“Don’t do that, Fitz.” 

Coulson’s voice had an edge to it Fitz hadn’t heard before, and he felt himself take a half step back. 

“W-why not?”

Something flashed behind Coulson’s eyes, and for a moment Fitz thought he would get the truth. That the older man would break and tell him that Jemma had been sent on an assignment, that he was watching her and Fitz had nothing to worry about. But the look was gone as quickly as it had come on, and Coulson closed himself off once more. 

“Because it’s not healthy, what you’re doing, Fitz. You need to accept that Jemma’s gone. I need your head in the game, in the lab, focusing on cloaking and other tech. Can you do that for me, Fitz?”

There were a million things Fitz wanted to say, from downright insubordinate to just rude, but he bit his tongue. For Jemma’s sake, he told himself. Her safety depended on Coulson thinking he didn’t know anything about where Jemma was. Fitz could do it for Jemma. So instead of a smart response, he merely nodded his head and went back to the lab. 

The lab without Jemma was even more difficult than Fitz had expected. He had thought that the handful of other scientists and technicians would bring him in on projects, but apparently he’d been consulted as a courtesy to Jemma. Without her there to act as a buffer, Fitz was left to his own devices, trying to puzzle things out - or more often than not nearly melt down - all on his own. He eventually got to the point of missing Jemma so badly - her voice, her touch, _everything_ \- that he started to see her next to him. 

Fitz hadn’t gone completely around the bend. He knew that what he was seeing wasn’t Jemma herself. The outfit was a dead giveaway: it was what she’d been wearing when she’d jumped from the Bus during the Chitauri incident. But it was so nice to see her, to hear her voice and be able to gossip with her about the new members Coulson was bringing in that Fitz didn’t bother to resist the vision much. And she was useful at times, helping him jar his memory when something stuck or reminding him of lab procedure whenever his brain got caught on the more finicky details of things. 

It wasn’t quite enough, though, and despite his best efforts to fit in with Skye, Trip, Mack, and Hunter, Fitz found himself thinking of Jemma constantly. She was the last thing he thought of when he lay down to go to sleep, and the first he thought of in the morning, and he found himself coming back to the same thought time and time again: _Stay safe, baby girl, and come home soon_. 

The first and only interesting thing that had happened long into Jemma’s tenure at Hydra was coming home one evening to find Coulson of all people lurking in her apartment. It seemed he’d deemed it necessary to respond to a dead drop in person, coming to check up on her and update her on her mission parameters--and chide her for her choice in foodstuffs. It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t as diligent at keeping her fridge as well-stocked as she might ordinarily have, she thought; she had too much on her mind, from her day job, to her worries over still not uncovering any good leads for S.H.I.E.L.D., to her crippling loneliness and how much she missed Fitz and everyone else. But Coulson had brought food to cook for the both of them, and he brought her to speed while he prepared their meal.

“So...how is everyone?” she asked lightly, toying with the stem of her wine glass where she sat at the table, watching Coulson cook. He’d refused to let her help, pouring her the wine and banishing her to sit, telling her to relax. She couldn’t help but wonder if he wasn’t trying to make up for any sort of guilt for essentially sending her into isolation.

Coulson glanced back at her, giving her a look she couldn’t quite read as he flipped the steaks on the skillet. “Fitz is doing just fine,” he said.

Jemma winced. She didn’t think she’d been that obvious in wanting to know how Fitz specifically was doing, but since he’d opened that avenue up, she would take it. “Is he?” she said. “How is his recovery progressing? Is his speech getting any better?”

Coulson turned back to the steaks. “He’s doing fine,” he repeated. “That’s all you need to know.”

She bit her lip, frowning down at the table. So much for _that_. She wanted to protest, saying that the status of everyone at the base wasn’t classified information, but she didn’t feel up to fighting him on it. She knew what he would say, anyway--that she needed to focus on her mission, that she didn’t need to let her feelings for Fitz interfere. And she couldn’t help but feel just a little bit of resentment settle in her bones for it.

The next day at the lab, however, Jemma finally got a breakthrough of sorts. She was brought in on a case by one of the top executives of the lab, a Mr. Bakshi. She had peripheral knowledge of the man but had never faced him directly; she found him to be unpleasant and more than a little unnerving. He questioned her loyalty to Hydra, which was the first time she’d ever been treated that way since joining, and she knew a few tense moments of fearing her cover would be blown, but she passed his test. What shocked her was what she had been called in for--help in tracking down Donnie Gill, who had gone rogue after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. 

He’d ostensibly been in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s custody after the events that led to Seth Dormer’s death at the Academy, but Hydra operatives had kept a watch over him during his time there and wanted him back in the fold. They’d tracked him down and wanted to use Jemma’s familiarity with him to convince him to come back.

She was very uneasy about facing him and trying to talk him into coming back to Hydra, not wanting him to be under their sway, but she became doubly concerned when she learned that he had apparently developed some type of advanced power, for lack of a better term; he could freeze things, and people, including the ship she was currently on, putting her in a considerable amount of danger. And once she found him, he seemed very confused to see her with Hydra. Until she started repeating what Bakshi was feeding her through the earbud she was wearing, and his confusion turned to fear, which confused _her--_ until it all went pear-shaped and suddenly she was running for her life through the belly of a ship that was rapidly being frozen over. It was only when Bakshi found them and completed the phrase that Jemma realized with a horrified feeling that Donnie had been brainwashed.

Bakshi instructed him to freeze the rest of the ship, but then a shot rang out, throwing Donnie’s shoulder back, and he pitched over the side of the ship into the water below. Looking up, Jemma saw a figure up higher on the ship above them who looked suspiciously like Skye. Her heart in her throat, she grabbed Bakshi and ran--she wanted nothing more than to be reunited with her team, but her cover couldn’t be blown. Her life was still at risk and she needed to maintain her cover above all else.

She went home to her apartment that night feeling troubled. If that really had been Skye on the ship, she would have seen her for certain, and gone back to the base to tell everyone about it--including Fitz. Judging by Coulson’s reaction to her the night before, Fitz had been successful in keeping what he knew about her mission a secret, but what would he think about definitely knowing she was undercover at Hydra now?

Being left behind while the rest of the team went out in search of someone he knew - someone he’d made a connection with - stung, and more than Fitz had expected. He could write off the lab team’s ignoring him as being the result of working with people he didn’t really know, but this was different. This was being told he couldn’t hack it by the people who knew him best, who were supposed to have his back in every situation. It cut Fitz deeply, nearly as deeply as it had when he thought Jemma found him useless. 

The idea preyed on him, rolling around his mind and keeping him from focusing on his work. Not even Mack’s suggestion that they could use the XBox unimpeded did anything to excite him. Fitz was too focused on what else was going on in the Playground. Coulson had shown they would hide Jemma’s assignment from him without a second thought. What else were they willing to hide from him?

Fitz knew he was behaving recklessly - that much was clear when his imaginary Jemma tried to stop him - but he plowed ahead. Of all the people he’d been expecting to find in the basement, Ward was the very last one. Seeing the man that had nearly killed him and Jemma sent Fitz into a tailspin, torn between panic and rage. How could Coulson keep him here? Knowing what he’d done to them? He wasn’t proud of his actions in Vault D. His mother had raised him to be a better man than that, and Fitz had a sinking feeling that Jemma would be terribly disappointed in him, but he couldn’t regret what he’d done to Ward. The man deserved it.

His opinion didn’t waver as Coulson spoke to him, going on about seeing Fitz’ progress and how difficult he found it to keep Ward in the basement. His line about needing to do whatever was needed chilled Fitz to the bone. He had no doubt Coulson meant exactly that, considering he’d sent Jemma into the field, unarmed and far from them for whatever meager intel she could scrounge up. He couldn’t hold his tongue entirely though, and found himself answering his commanding officer without even meaning to speak. 

“Well, y’ should have told me.”

Coulson looked him over, and Fitz was suddenly terrified that he knew Jemma had given him classified information. That his inability to hold his tongue would land her in trouble, or worse, actual danger. 

“Maybe,” Coulson replied, his face inscrutable. “I didn’t want to add to what you were already dealing with.” 

It was a cop out answer and Fitz knew it. Still, it felt like he was so, so close to getting to hear more about Jemma that he couldn’t resist pushing a bit more. “And is, um,” Fitz looked away, his hands kneading at the armrests of his chair uselessly, “is there anything… Is there anything more?” He looked up, willing Coulson to confide in him, just for this one thing. 

By some impossible stroke of luck, it actually worked. 

“That I’m keeping from you? Yeah. I’m Director. There’s a hell of a lot more. But there is one other thing you should know. Simmons is on an assignment. That’s why she hasn’t been in contact. That’s why she left.”

Something broke over Fitz, relief perhaps, to find that Coulson wasn’t as willing to keep things from the rank and file as Fury had been. He asked a few more questions, playing the role of a jilted lover a bit longer to keep Jemma in the clear, but all he felt was impossibly light. At least now he could ask for updates about Jemma, could have an idea of what was going on with her instead of having to imagine the absolute worst at all times. That would be enough, or it would have to be, until she was called back to the Playground. 

Jemma had thought that maybe she would be trusted with more information on Hydra’s operations after her cooperation with the mission concerning Donnie Gill, and she was right. Bakshi brought her and Kenneth in on a meeting that detailed some new weapons that Hydra was developing, that if put into motion on a large scale could kill thousands in one blow. Jemma was horrified, but Kenneth was thrilled.

Finally able to send some actionable intel to S.H.I.E.L.D., Jemma did so as soon as she was able to, on her lunch break. She left her coded message at her usual dead drop and went back to work, glad that she had been able to send something useful, but very disturbed at what Hydra had in the works. Things got even worse when the head of security came in to do a sweep of everyone’s workstations. Jemma knew a moment of intense fear--she had one of her dead drop files in her desk, and if they found it, she was a dead woman. Planting it in Kenneth’s desk brought her a brief flush of guilt, as did seeing security drag him off kicking and screaming, but it was only that--brief. Kenneth was a terrible man who found glee in the suffering of others, and she’d done what she had to do in order to maintain her cover. Nothing more, nothing less.

But her day kept getting worse. She ran into the head of security herself, an intimidating woman named Bobbi Morse, who grilled her on what she was doing and her loyalty to Hydra. Jemma began to suspect that the higher-ups thought she was a mole, that her cover was about to be blown, and that perhaps she needed to go back to her dead drop as soon as possible and leave a message saying she needed extraction, that the mission was a bust and she was about to be compromised. Fear was slithering through her veins, and she wanted nothing more than the clock to strike five so she could go back to her apartment and regroup, get her mind settled, and hopefully make contact with the Playground and decide what to do.

But when she went back into the lab and realized that everyone was staring at her, the fear blossomed to swallow her whole. She didn’t know what was going on until she reached her station and saw that there was a photo on her computer monitor--on _everyone’s_ monitor--of her earlier that day, out on her lunch break, sending the message at her dead drop site. The blood drained from her face as her stomach sank. Someone knew she was a mole and had just blown her cover in the most public way imaginable. And now she had no way out.

Just then, Bakshi appeared at the far end of the lab with two ops agents, who headed directly for her. She turned and ran, as fast as she could, not sure where she would go, but just knowing that she had to get _out_. She was headed for the closest stairwell she could think of when Bobbi Morse appeared at the far end of the corridor, and Jemma came to a halt, her heart freezing. Looking back, the ops agents had just entered the hall behind her. She was trapped.

But to her surprise, Morse went right past her and attacked the ops agents, dispatching them with ease. Jemma gaped at her. The head of Hydra security had just attacked her own agents. It was absolutely impossible that she was friendly. “What?” she gasped in disbelief.

“Just go!” Morse said, pushing her along. “We need to get to the roof!”

Jemma did as she was told, running ahead of Morse and not stopping until they burst out onto the roof of the building. She stopped in the middle, looking around. There was nowhere else to go. “What now?” she cried. “We’re trapped!”

“Just keep running! Trust me!” Morse said, grabbing her hand and pulling. Ops agents spilled out of the doorway behind them, shooting at them; bullets pinged off the metal infrastructure around them as they ran. Jemma shrieked, until a blaze of pain ripped through her left shoulder and side, sending her to her knees as she cried out.

Morse swore, then turned back to grab both of Jemma’s hands and pull her back up to her feet. She cried out again, the pain nearly blinding her. “Don’t stop now,” Morse shouted. “We’re almost there!” She pulled her along again, running for the edge of the rooftop. Jemma ran as best as she could, feeling faint and trying not to stumble, but very alarmed at what they were about to do. 

“What are you doing?!” she cried. “We can’t, we’re thirty floors up, we’ll--”

“Just jump!” Morse yelled.

Jemma screamed as they both hurtled off the edge of the building, bullets flying past them, and squeezed her eyes shut. But a second later they both hit something solid, and she opened her eyes to see something materializing out of thin air beneath them--a quinjet. That had been cloaked. 

_Cloaking. Fitz figured it out._

A warm rush went through Jemma’s heart as Bobbi tugged her toward the open hatch in the top of the aircraft, going through first and then pulling Jemma through. It was a hard drop to the floor inside and Jemma cried out in pain, curling onto her side and reaching over to clamp a hand over her injured shoulder. A warm, wet stickiness seeped out from between her fingers, and she groaned, struggling to keep her eyes open.

She felt hands take her by the shoulders, trying to roll her onto her back. “I got her,” she heard Morse say, “but we need to get her back to base quickly. She’s been shot.”

“Copy that,” a man’s voice said. Trip. It was Trip. “Playground, this is Triplett reporting that extraction was a success and we are headed back your way right now but we’ve got an agent down and will need medical as soon as we arrive. I repeat, agent down.”

Jemma tried to keep her eyes open, to see Trip where he was in the jet’s pilot seat, to say hello to him after such a long time away, but blackness was creeping in on the edges of her vision, and the pain in her shoulder and side was just too much. The last thing she was aware of was seeing Morse’s face hovering over her, backlit by the jet’s lights, pressing something down onto her shoulder that made the pain flare even worse. Then everything went black.

The moment everyone began scrambling like an ant hill that had been overturned, Fitz knew something was up. Jemma. That was his only thought, his stomach dropping out as he tried _not_ to think of all the things that could have happened to cause this kind of reaction. Naturally, all that did though was bring those things storming to the front of his mind, and Fitz found himself hunched over his lab station, listening to the comms feed instead of working on that day’s reports. 

He nearly vomited all over the surface when he’d heard an agent had been shot. Trip didn’t sound panicked, but then again he wouldn’t. He’d been trained to remain calm in the field, after all, and a gunshot wound was routine for him. It wasn’t for Fitz, and it took everything in him to keep calm. Trip wasn’t alone. Coulson had mentioned another agent on the inside. It easily could have been that they were the one shot, not Jemma, but he couldn’t quite convince himself of that. 

Fitz went to the hangar and loitered just behind the medical team, waiting for the quinjet to land. He shot up the ramp right after them and nearly collapsed at what he saw. Jemma, lying prone on the floor, her shirt cut away to reveal a small, jagged wound. A bullet hole. She’d been shot, her skin smeared with her blood, and Fitz wasn’t sure whether he wanted to scream or cry first. He was too numb to do either, and merely watched as a tall, dark haired woman scooped Jemma up and laid her on the stretcher the medical team had. 

He trotted along behind them as the stranger rattled off a string of vitals far too rapidly for Fitz’ brain to keep up. All he could see was Jemma, pale and far too lifeless for his comfort, as they began to work on her. Someone tugged at him, pulling him away from her, and he fought it, lashing out at whoever it was that held his arm. It wasn’t until they murmured in his ear that he needed to let the medical team work that Fitz realized it was Skye, her voice just as tear-laden as his own. He went willingly then, although he didn’t go far, keeping his face pressed against the glass and watching as they worked. 

Thankfully it didn’t take long to remove the bullet and patch Jemma up. Fitz was allowed to see her then, and he practically collapsed into the chair at her bedside. Someone had taken the time to clean the blood from her skin, thankfully, and she looked a bit better, although not quite like the woman he loved. She was too still, too pale. It was unnerving, and Fitz found himself silently crying as he watched her. He wrapped a hand around Jemma’s and waited, silent, for the medicine to wear off and for her to wake up.


	10. Chapter 10

Jemma woke up slowly, in stages. First she became aware of sound, of a constant, quiet beeping, and the soft whisper of air coming through the ventilation. She could hear the low murmur of voices in the distance, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then she could feel things--blankets beneath and around her, tape holding something down on top of one of her hands, the soft warmth of another hand wrapped around her other one...and that was enough to help her force her eyes open, blinking against the low lights in the room.

The first thing she saw was Fitz, sitting in a chair next to the bed she was in. It all came rushing back to her then--Hydra, Bobbi Morse, running, being shot, blacking out on the quinjet--and here she was. She’d made it back to the Playground, and here was Fitz, right beside her. She was so overjoyed to see him after months away that she looked past the fact that he was rumpled and worn, his forehead crinkled in concern, tears on his cheeks. and weakly tried to curl her fingers around his where he was holding her hand. “Fitz,” she whispered, her face breaking into a smile. 

He had to fight the urge to lunge forward when she said his name, wanting to be as close to her as he possibly could. Instead, Fitz settled for raising her free hand to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses there as he held her gaze. He could feel himself tearing up again, but didn't much care who might see. 

“H-hi, Jemma.” His voice broke a bit, evidence of how worried he'd been about her, but he was smiling. Jemma was awake and speaking. She'd be okay. He could breathe a little easier now. “Y’ scared me, baby girl.”

Jemma beamed at him, briefly closing her eyes as he kissed her hand, getting the absurd urge to cry at how soft and gentle his lips were against her skin, and how much she had missed him while she was gone. But she quickly opened her eyes again, wanting to look at him, wanting to reassure herself that she really was home and he really was there beside her, that she wasn’t dreaming. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice quiet, though she was still smiling. “But I promised you I’d come back, didn’t I?” 

“Y’ did promise me that,” he conceded, holding her hand to his cheek as he nodded. “But I'm s-startin’ t’ think I should have made 'in one piece’ part o’ the conditions.” 

Fitz sat up and leaned over Jemma's bed, smiling to let her know he was only teasing. He pressed a kiss to her forehead then moved down to kiss her lips, lingering a bit. He hadn't allowed himself to think he'd never kiss her again - it would have driven him mad - but now that she was back and relatively safe, Fitz gave himself permission to feel it. 

Jemma let everything else fade away for a moment as Fitz kissed her, and she found herself tilting her face up into him as he lingered, prolonging the contact for as long as she could. His lips were sweeter than she remembered, or perhaps that was just the freshness of being kissed after such a long time away talking. As it was, she felt like she could float away happy on a sea of kisses just like this, one after the other. 

When Fitz finally pulled away, she kept her eyes shut for a beat or two longer, wanting to savor the taste of his kiss for a moment longer. When she finally opened them, she smiled up at him again and squeezed his hand where he was still holding it. “I missed you,” she murmured. “So much. Every single day--”

She cut herself off with a sigh. He didn’t need to know exactly how much she’d missed him, how she’d struggled being without him and everyone else, how she’d been isolated without friendly faces or people to talk to. She didn’t want to worry him. She was just grateful to be back and alive.

“Missed y’, too. The lab… Well, let's just say it wasn't the same without y’.”

Jemma didn't need to know he'd still struggled without her there. She'd left with the idea that Fitz would be better on his own; he didn't want to disabuse her of that as soon as she woke up. He brought his free hand up to her hair and began to toy with the stray strands, reacquainting himself with the feel after going so long without. He gave her another soft smile before he sat on the edge of the mattress. 

“So… H-how was Hydra?” 

Jemma breathed out a sarcastic laugh, and the way it made her shoulders shake had her wincing in pain as it pulled at the wound there.

“You mean, besides being terrified every day that I would be found out and either tortured, murdered, or something else equally horrible? It was bloody boring.” She leaned her head into the hand he had playing through her hair. “They kept me in the same lab the entire time, running basic low-level analyses that I could have done in my sleep getting my undergrad. I didn’t learn a single thing that was of use to S.H.I.E.L.D. until…” She tried to think of how much time might have passed while she was out. “Until yesterday, really. I was there for months, all for nothing. I feel like it was a waste.”

It was hard for her to keep the bitterness out of her tone, but it wasn’t necessarily directed at Coulson and May for sending her on the mission as much as it was directed at herself--she felt like she hadn’t done her job well enough, to advance up in the ranks at Hydra where she could have learned more useful information that they could use.

Then she sighed, thinking about the more personal aspects of it. “And it was lonely,” she said, quieter. “I didn’t have anyone to talk to in the evenings, or go out with, or see on the weekends...things like that.” She looked up at him. “I’m really very happy to be back. Even though...even though it was through this.” She tilted her head toward her injured shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault, y’ know.” Fitz nodded to her same shoulder and relaxed a bit against her hip, although he was careful not to put too much pressure on any part of Jemma. She seemed so breakable to him in that moment that Fitz was afraid if he put too much on her, she might very well shatter before his eyes. “T-things got sloppy because Raina got involved. She, she tried t’, t’ broker some kind o’ deal. With Coulson. Said she’d keep your cover intact if he gave her what she wanted. He r-refused.”

Fitz looked away, not wanting Jemma to see the flush of anger in his eyes. He wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive Coulson for what he’d done. He’d been willing to gamble with Jemma’s life, putting faith in some cobbled together extraction that had still ended with her injured. Fitz wasn’t even entirely convinced he would have pulled her out of Hydra if he thought they’d be able to salvage her cover. He supposed he should be thanking Raina in a way; it was only because of her that Jemma had come home sooner rather than later. 

He blew out a breath and tried to give Jemma a smile, hoping to will himself into a better humor. He could save his frustration and his snark for when Coulson was actually in the room. He wanted to try to stay positive for Jemma while she was in recovery, although Fitz had a feeling she already knew his mood had tanked. 

“Y’ got lucky there, too.” Fitz nibbled his lip as he looked from Jemma’s shoulder to her eyes. “D-doctors said it missed everythin’ major, and it didn’t, uh, didn’t shatter. M-made it easy to extract.” The thought of them having to pull anything from Jemma’s body made Fitz’ stomach roll unpleasantly, and he took a deep breath before he could continue. “A day or two in here, t’ make sure there isn’t any, uh, infection, and then you’re out. Y’ can, can come back t’ your - our - bunk.”

Fitz was looking forward to that, too. He hadn’t felt quite as cut off as Jemma, not with Daisy and Trip around, or having Mack and Hunter to talk to, but it wasn’t the same as having her. He was looking forward to sharing a space with her again, to things getting back to normal. Or as normal as they ever were given the lives they’d elected to lead. 

Jemma could tell that Fitz’s mood had soured, but she smiled softly, hoping to redirect his focus a little. She didn’t want to think too much about Coulson refusing to keep her cover intact--after all, he’d obviously had a plan in play, with Trip and the quinjet ready to go and Bobbi Morse serving as the backup she didn’t know she’d had, but the alternatives were just too scary to contemplate. What if Bobbi hadn’t been there? Or Trip? What if Bakshi had gotten to her first? She would have been dead for sure, or lying inside a Hydra prison cell, beaten to within an inch of her life for S.H.I.E.L.D. secrets. She didn’t want to think Coulson would have played so fast and loose with her life. But he’d become rather remote and withdrawn since taking over Director duties, and she didn’t have as much insight into how he worked anymore.

“That’s good to know,” Jemma said, looking down at her shoulder again. There was a large bandage peeking out from beneath the gown she’d been dressed in, and moving was painful. “I’m afraid I’ve never really been a model patient. The sooner I’m out of here, the better for all involved, really. Though I wonder how long they’ll make me wait before I can go back to work. Which will be strange, I suppose...adjusting to work here, after working _there_ for so long.” She groaned. “Oh, but I can’t wait to be back in our lab, though.”

Fitz huffed a laugh and squeezed Jemma’s fingers between his own. “I think the lab techs maybe, uh, maybe missed y’ more than I did. I m-may have been, uh, a bit…” He gave her a sheepish smile and a shrug. He knew he hadn’t been the kindest or most patient version of himself for quite some time, and Jemma was familiar with all facets of his personality. Fitz trusted that she could read between the lines. 

“I can’t wait t’ have y’ back, either. Both in the lab, and, and, well, y’ know.” Their bed had been too large, too cold without Jemma. And their bunk hadn’t felt quite as homey, either, despite having all their personal effects strewn about. Although that could have been part of the problem. Seeing Jemma’s things was just a reminder of where she was and what she was doing. Now that she was home, Fitz was looking forward to that changing. 

“I did some pokin’ around. Talked t’, t’, y’ know, Bobbi. She thinks you’ll be back quicker than most. Said y’ took bein’ shot well, whatever _that_ means, and once they patch y’ up, you’ll be back. No field assignments for a while, but easy things around the lab should, uh, should be okay.”

Jemma kept smiling up at Fitz as he spoke, just happy to have him near to be able to hear the sound of his voice. She’d noticed a slight improvement in his speech, though not as much as she’d hoped for, but she refused to feel any disappointment over that. Fitz wasn’t beholden to any checkpoints that he had to meet, and any progress was good progress in her book. She just hoped he wasn’t as frustrated with himself as he had been when she’d left.

Her smile widened a bit when he implied that he’d been a terror to the lab techs. She was well aware of how Fitz could be when he got grumpy, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the techs who’d had to deal with him in her absence. She’d always been able to smooth out Fitz’s rough edges; dealing with him alone must not have been fun. “I’m sure they’ll be delighted to have me back,” she teased quietly.

Then she laughed at the notion that she’d handled being shot well, which made her shoulder hurt, causing her to stop abruptly and sputter and tense up in pain. As she relaxed back against the pillow, she said, “I think I’ll be very happy to stay out of the field for awhile. I think I’ve earned it.”

As if on cue, she let out a very large yawn. She looked at the IV drip in her hand and wondered if a scheduled medication dose had just come through, and if that was why she was suddenly so sleepy. She tightened her hand around Fitz’s again, not wanting to let go of him when she’d just gotten him back. “I’m sorry Fitz, I’m...oh, I can’t keep my eyes open suddenly.” She blinked several times. “But I wish you could stay…” 

“Go t’ sleep, Jemma,” Fitz soothed, his thumb running over the back of her hand. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’ll still be here when y’ wake up.” He wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving her, regardless of whether or not she’d been up and talking. He had his tablet with him; he could use that to keep up with work from Jemma’s bedside, since it wasn’t as though the techs were banging down his door for assistance. 

He watched as Jemma drifted off, her breathing going deep and steady and her grip on his hand loosening slightly. She looked peaceful, so much more so than when he’d first seen her on the quinjet, and Fitz felt a warm affection flood him. Jemma was alive and safe back at the base; her health would follow. Even if she grumbled about the doctor’s orders, he was confident that he could press her into following them, same as she’d done during his recovery. Fitz gave her one last, fond smile, leaned forward to kiss her brow, and slipped back into his chair. 

He meant to get work done, but somehow, he wound up watching Jemma sleep instead. 

Jemma’s rest was deep, aided by exhaustion and medication, and mostly dreamless. What dreams she did have involved falling from the top of the Hydra lab building toward the quinjet, over and over, while Fitz screamed her name. It was an odd dream that didn’t make much sense, and it slipped from her mind almost as soon as she awoke later that night.

She stayed true to her word to try and be as well-behaved a patient as she could be, trying not to second-guess the doctors in charge of her care or tell them she knew better what to do than they did. Still, it was a relief to finally be discharged, and she was happy to be on her own two feet again, though she did lean on Fitz slightly as they walked down the corridor toward her bunk.

Opening the door and walking inside was the moment that Jemma truly felt like she had come home. Seeing her--their--room with all of their knick-knacks and mementos, with Fitz’s dirty laundry in a heap by the wardrobe, the bedclothes all rumpled, everything looking just as it always had, brought a lump to Jemma’s throat. As the door closed behind them, she turned to press her face against Fitz’s shoulder, breathing in deeply. It was a bit irrational to say she’d missed a room so much, perhaps, but she had. And she was very happy to be back. The yellow walls of her apartment in the city had been cheerful, but they just weren’t home the way the brick here was.

“It’s good to be back,” she whispered against his cardigan.

Fitz brought his arms around Jemma, pulling her close as she worked through the moment. He hadn’t expected her to get so emotional. If anything, he’d expected an eyeroll and an exasperated, “Oh, _Fitz_ ,” at the sight of his laundry piled on the floor, but if she wasn’t going to call him on it, he certainly wasn’t going to complain. He rubbed her back and hummed as he looked around the room. 

“It’s good t’ have y’ back. Wasn’t the same without y’ here.”

That was the simple truth. It hadn’t felt like home, and just having Jemma on the base had restored some of that for Fitz. Hopefully having her in the same room would carry him the rest of the way. 

Having Jemma back had done more than just that for him though. Seeing her work with her doctors, going through recovery, had in an odd way given Fitz permission to be more gentle with himself. He knew that he didn’t think of Jemma as any less capable because she needed help with some of the more physical aspects of her work, which meant he had no reason to think Jemma doubted his abilities to do his. There were still moments where Fitz felt frustrated, but all in all things seemed to be getting easier, for both of them. Having Jemma come home was just one more step toward healing. 

“I left pretty much everythin’ the same,” he admitted, lips brushing against her hair. “It… It helped me think about y’, seein’ your stuff around.” 

Jemma looked up at him, setting her chin on his shoulder. “I have to admit I’m a little surprised you stayed in here the whole time I was away,” she said. “I guess I thought that maybe you’d go back to your own bunk, or…” She shook her head. “No, I would have stayed in here if I were you, too. You’re hardly ever in your assigned bunk, anyway.”

She stepped away from him and went to sit down on the edge of the bed, taking care not to jostle her left arm too much, which was still in a sling for the next few days while her shoulder finished the first major part of healing. She let her right hand trail over the bedding, taking in its softness, the old familiarity of it, and smiled. “Now, you’ll have to tell me all about what I’ve missed while I was gone,” she said. “You’ve mentioned some names I haven’t heard before, so we’ve gotten some new agents in? Mack, I think you said his name was? And Hunter? Tell me about them.” She patted the spot on the mattress next to her, inviting Fitz to sit.

Honestly, if Fitz had made friends while she was away, she was glad for it. She knew he would have Skye and Trip to turn to while she was away, but she’d hated the idea of him withdrawing into himself, and if these new agents had helped pull him out of his shell a bit, then she owed them a great debt. 

Fitz watched as Jemma settled back into their room, trying to anticipate anything she might need. He was sure he was making a terrible pest of himself, but he couldn't help but feel a bit overprotective. Fitz felt he was allowed, given that she'd been shot and all. 

“Well,” he began, taking the spot next to Jemma and reaching for her good hand, “let's see. Mack - the tall one, almost looks half giant - works in the garage, mostly. He's another engineer. He, ah, he helped me reverse engineer the cloakin’, after they stole the quin. He's been playin’ XBox with me, too.” He nudged Jemma's shoulder in silent acknowledgement that she'd been the first one to suggest using video games to improve his hand-eye coordination. As usual, she'd been right, and it had helped him more than a little bit. 

“Hunter's the other _other_ Brit. Mostly just talks a lot, complainin’ about his ex, and drinks most o’ the beer, but he's a good sort. Funny, and Skye says he's useful on missions.” Fitz' expression turned sly and he leaned in to whisper to Jemma, “Trip heard from May that Bobbi's his ex. Should be fun t’ watch _that_ go down, huh?”

In the few days she'd been around the Playground, Fitz had taken a shine to Bobbi Morse. Sure she was intimidating, but she had gotten Jemma out of Hydra. That alone would have made him like her. The fact that she was the only person who could easily get under Hunter's skin, sending the unflappable merc into a tizzy at the slightest provocation, was merely a bonus. As much as Fitz liked the other man, he couldn't deny the entertainment value of his rants, and secretly enjoyed watching the fallout of their verbal sparring sessions. He had a feeling Jemma might enjoy that, too. 

“Oh no,” Jemma said, laughing lightly, leaning into Fitz’s shoulder. “I imagine that will be quite a show.” She’d yet to meet Hunter, and she didn’t know how much of Bobbi’s persona at Hydra had been part of her cover, but she had the feeling that either Hunter wasn’t the one wearing the pants in that relationship, or the two of them butted heads a _lot_. Maybe the base gossip mill would have a new focus.

As her laughter died down, she smiled at him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I know this will sound, well...patronizing at best, but I mean it. I’m glad you didn’t shut yourself away while I was gone. I’m glad you found some friends. I was worried you might get too much inside your own head, and...I’m just really glad you didn’t.”

Fitz looked down at that and nibbled his lip, feeling a bit guilty. He hadn’t fared as well without Jemma as he’d made it out, truth be told. Hell, he’d hallucinated her. As much as he liked Mack and Hunter, and as distracting as their banter could be, it hadn’t been anywhere near enough to make up for the loss of Jemma. He liked them, cared for them even, but they would never be the end-all, be-all that Jemma was. She looked so pleased though, happy that he had managed to strike out on his own, that Fitz couldn’t take that from her. 

He kissed her instead, soft and sweet, taking care not to jostle her too much so she wouldn’t accidentally pull the wound in her shoulder. Hopefully that was enough to tell her what he couldn’t quite put into words: how happy he was that she was home and how he hoped she’d never have to leave again.


	11. Chapter 11

The one fringe benefit to their both being in the middle of recovery was that Fitz and Jemma both were allowed to take a backseat when it came to field work. They were able to focus on keeping the lab running smoothly, running analysis on Toshiro Mori’s weapons and trying to glean what they could from the files Jemma and Bobbi had managed to sneak out of Hydra. The nature of the splinter bombs left Fitz feeling ill. He couldn’t help but imagine what it must feel like to disintegrate, to see your body disappear before your very eyes, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about the mind of the man who had designed them. It took a certain level of genius to come up with a design so elegant, but there was a cruelness to it that Fitz wanted no part of. 

Perhaps that was why he was so taken aback when he heard Jemma threaten Ward as he was transferred into his brother’s custody. They had never really spoken about what had happened in the medpod, how he’d been ready to die for her. Fitz knew it had affected them both - how could it not? - but he hadn’t realized the degree of Jemma’s anger. Ultimately, he wasn’t troubled by her threat. He would kill for her, so it only stood to reason that she would feel the same. And if Fitz were being honest, there was something nice about knowing there was someone on the team who would put him first to that degree, instead of merely writing him off as collateral for the sake of the mission.

Things didn’t stay quiet for long, though, and they were both forced into taking a more active role again. With Trip, Hunter, and Bobbi hunting down the newly escaped Ward, he was sent into the field to retrieve, of all things, a body for Jemma to autopsy. Thankfully her arm had healed enough that Fitz wasn’t required to stay and assist. Just heaving the thing around with Mack had made his skin crawl, and he was happy to leave Jemma to glean answers from the dead. 

They only lead to more bodies, though, and the horror of what Coulson himself had perpetrated with Project T.A.H.I.T.I. Fitz could still hear the older man’s screams in the memory machine at night when he closed his eyes, no matter how tightly he held Jemma. It was a sound that lingered, and he found himself only sleeping for a few hours at a time to keep it from haunting his dreams. At least there had been a benefit to undergoing that treatment, and Coulson had been able to tell them which former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents they were looking for. The end result was that they finally had an answer for what had been driving Coulson all these months: they were looking for an ancient, alien city. 

Fitz supposed there were stranger things they could be searching for, and it wasn’t the oddest thing he’d ever done for S.H.I.E.L.D. by far. He also was looking forward to getting his chance to get back into the field. Coulson had asked him to help him, Trip, and Skye to hijack a satellite feed that would help them locate it. The only catch was a time limit, and Fitz found himself practicing slavishly in his corner of the lab to make sure he got it right. He barely spoke to anyone other than Jemma, and even then only sparingly, his nerves keeping him far too keyed up to have a proper conversation. She was a saint all throughout, even sneaking a kiss in behind Coulson’s back when Fitz cockily told him he’d be ready to go. 

All that bravado hadn’t prepared him for the reality of the remote office, of being attacked by Hydra and watching Trip nearly bleed out in front of him. Somehow, though, he managed to keep it together, patching the feed and helping Coulson keep Trip alive just long enough to get him back to the Playground and into Jemma’s capable hands. Trusting that Jemma would see to him, Fitz and Skye turned toward reviewing the information they had just come away with, a nice, neat set of coordinates leading them to their destination. 

They were headed to Puerto Rico. 

Jemma was a bit apprehensive about going back into the field, but at least she had the whole team around her this time to provide support and back up. She stuck close to Fitz on the quinjet as Mack flew them out to land as near as he could to where they’d determined the underground entrance to the Kree temple was in San Juan, where Coulson and Bobbi planned to meet up with them later.

While Mack worked on drilling a hole through the stone floor of the old fort to expose an entrance to the temple below, and Fitz readied the D.W.A.R.F.s to take scans, Jemma read what information she’d been able to glean about the fort and its history off the tablet she was carrying as she paced back and forth behind Fitz. In a way, she was almost cheerful now; the easy way the three of them worked together reminded her very much of the early days on the Bus. Fitz had already proven himself admirably his first time back out in the field since his accident, and he was working with excellent focus and poise now. Jemma’s shoulder didn’t even feel too stiff; she rolled it slightly, stretching the muscles there, and smiled to herself.

Mack finished drilling the hole right around the same time Coulson and Bobbi arrived. “How’s it coming?” Coulson asked, looking between the three of them.

Mack gestured down at the hole next to him. “Just got this done, though we can’t see the bottom.”

Coulson looked to Fitz and Jemma, the latter of whom had just picked up his tri-fold tablet. “Did you want to go first?” she asked, not wanting to speak over him.

Fitz grinned at Jemma, high on the feeling of being back in the field, and more importantly feeling in control there. He could practically feel Mack roll his eyes at him, but didn’t really care. They were working together, nearly seamlessly, and Fitz felt more himself than he had in ages. He picked up the tablet controlling the D.W.A.R.F.s and tilted it so Jemma could see the screen. He activated Sleepy, Sneezy, and Doc and guided them over to the opening Mack had just cut. 

“We’re ready to deploy, sir.” Fitz guided the three drones into the hole and looked after them, checking between what he saw with his eyes and what was on the tablet to see if the readings were making sense. Satisfied, he took a step back from the opening and focused only on the screen in front of him. 

“How long will it take to survey the tunnel?”

“Well, that depends,” Fitz said, “like the tec- tec- tect-” He looked at Jemma and silently begged her to give him a hand. His tongue hadn’t frozen up on him like this in a while, but he needed her help to clear this hurdle. 

Jemma had been watching him, but she only stepped forward to intercede for him when he specifically looked to her for help. “The tectonic stress levels,” she said, nodding back at Fitz when his nod told her she’d read him right. “And the structural integrity of the tunnels, how damaged they are.”

“And how deep they go,” he finished.

She caught Fitz’s eye and smiled, hoping to soothe over any frayed nerves caused by his stumble. Despite that, they still worked together just as smoothly as they ever had.

“How will we know what the temple looks like?” Coulson asked.

“Well, we’ll know it when we see it, I guess,” Mack replied, looking back down into the hole, where the D.W.A.R.F.s had gone.

“We’ll be depending entirely on the data the D.W.A.R.F.s send us,” Jemma said

As if on cue, the data readouts on Fitz’s tri-fold tablet winked out. Jemma blinked, frowning, and stepped in closer to Fitz’s side to peer at it. “What happened?” she asked.

“Uh, I, uh, I don’t know.” 

It was as honest an answer as Fitz could give as he tapped away, pulling out every trick in the book he knew to reconnect to the D.W.A.R.F.s, to no avail. He even resorted to tapping the sides of the tablet with the palm of his hand, despite knowing it was a futile gesture. 

“We s-seem t’ have lost contact with the drones, sir.”

Coulson frowned at him and took a step closer to the edge, peering down into the darkness and shifting his weight as if that would help clear things up. 

“Has that ever happened before?”

“No. No, sir. We designed the D.W.A.R.F.s t’ remain connected at a distance, even through steel and concrete walls…” Fitz gave Jemma an uncertain look, more than a little worried about what they could have encountered to effectively kill their technology. 

He was still pondering that question as they set up the tow line, with Mack strapping himself in as Bobbi cracked the lightsticks and dropped them down the shaft. Despite knowing that Mack was fully field trained and more than capable of handling himself, Fitz felt himself overcome by a wave of nerves. 

“Looks t’ be about 100 feet,” he commented, trying to warn his friend without seeming too protective. Mack shrugged him off, cocking his gun and commenting that he wasn’t scared of heights. Honestly, it wasn’t the height or the darkness that had Fitz worried, but rather what else might be lurking there. 

He inched closer to Jemma as Mack was lowered down the opening, his knuckles white where he gripped the tablet. “I don’t like this,” he whispered to her, quiet enough that only she could hear him. “He shouldn’t be goin’ in blind.”

“I don’t much like it either,” Jemma whispered back, “but Mack can handle himself, right? He’s done this sort of thing before.”

Perhaps not, seeing as Mack was an engineer who considered himself more of a mechanic, but he was field-trained, with more experience than either of them. She trusted that he could handle anything he found down there, and she wasn’t expecting much. It wasn’t as if anything living could be down there. Surely not. Nothing could have survived down there, sealed off, for hundreds of years. It was probably just some sort of strange atmospheric phenomena that had disrupted the D.W.A.R.F.s.

Everything was fine at first. Mack yelled up that he’d touched down, and Jemma let out a small breath of relief, exchanging another look with Fitz. Comms weren’t working, obviously, but at least they could hear him. 

Until he started screaming.

Jemma cried out, going to peer over the edge of the hole, just as Coulson and Bobbi dove for the controls on the harness line. 

“Mack?” she shouted. “Mack!”

“Pull him up!” Coulson ordered, just as Bobbi jammed a hand down on the controls, setting the harness line into reverse, hopefully pulling Mack back up. Coulson turned to Jemma. “What’s happening? You sure you’ve got nothing on what’s down there?”

“Before the D.W.A.R.F.s went down, they scanned for signs of life,” she said quickly, her mind racing. “All readings were negative!”

Fitz hunched over the opening, shouting bits of information to Bobbi as she tried to get Mack up as quickly as possible. He came over the rim impossibly fast, but thankfully Coulson caught him. Fitz rushed to help get the harness on him, his only thought to get that done and get out of the way so Jemma could examine Mack. But no matter what they said, all he would do was scream and shake, with odd black lines running just beneath his skin. 

Mack curled in on himself and for a moment Fitz thought that maybe it was all over. Coulson asked him to repeat himself and he did, glaring at the other man as a deep voice, deeper than Mack’s usual tone reverberated out of his chest. 

“Run.”

All hell broke loose then, with Mack attacking Coulson, flinging him out of the way as though he were no more than a ragdoll, before turning his attention on Bobbi. Fitz moved to shield Jemma, doing the best he could in the tight space. Bobbi was their last hope; if she couldn’t hold him off, he and Jemma were done for. 

Bobbi fought hard with her staves, but she was an even match for whatever had come over Mack--she didn’t even put a dent in him. He matched her move for move, blocking every hit she tried to land on her. Coulson grabbed an ICER and fired a few rounds into his back, but Mack didn’t even flinch. Instead, he grabbed Bobbi by the neck and pinned her against the wall, choking her. 

“Why isn’t he going down?!” Jemma cried from behind Fitz, horrified.

Coulson came up from behind up with a bungee cable, getting Mack around the neck. It was enough to get him to release Bobbi, who fell to the ground, wheezing and coughing. But Mack flipped Coulson again like he was nothing.

Desperate to do anything, to try and stop Mack from hurting them, Jemma darted out from behind Fitz and grabbed the D.W.A.R.F. case, swinging it at him with all her might. But it just glanced off him, without even making him stumble, and he turned to her and pushed her away like he was swatting a fly. She flew backward with a yelp, and before she could stop herself, she’d hit the ground and fallen headfirst into the open hole leading down into the temple. She screamed, her arms flailing, and at the very last second, someone caught her legs, leaving her dangling upside down in the hole.

Time slowed and Fitz felt frozen to the spot as he watched Jemma fall toward the opening. He was too far from her to do anything other than watch her stumble, unable to scream with the way his heart had jumped into his throat. Coulson dropped the bungee and lunged for Jemma, thankfully catching her by the leg. Unfortunately, that let Mack loose, and lurching toward Fitz. 

Without thinking he snatched up a gun, cocking it and pointing it at his friend’s chest. His arms shook a bit, and he had to fight the temptation to look over to see how Jemma was doing. Taking his eyes off of Mack would be a fatal mistake, though, and he kept his gaze trained at his chest. Center mass, just like he’d been taught. 

“Please, Mack, wake up. Don’t make me do this!” He took another shaky step forward, and Fitz raised the gun, Jemma’s screams echoing in his ears. “These are real bullets, Mack!”

“Damn it, Fitz, shoot!”

Fitz heard the order and flinched. He knew what he needed to do, what needed to be done to save them all, but he still hated himself for being the one that had to do it. Then there was a burst of electricity as Bobbi jammed her batons into the base of Mack’s throat. The man convulsed once, twice, before keeling over and saving Fitz from having to put bullets in his chest. 

He dropped the gun instantly, stopping only long enough to make sure the safety was engaged before flinging it away from him and going over to Jemma. Fitz wrapped her in a bear hug, not caring that their boss was there to see, and breathed easier for having her back on solid ground. 

“Are y’ okay?”

Coulson had managed to grab Jemma’s hand and pull her up just as Bobbi had hit Mack with her batons, and now she was sitting on the stone floor right next to the hole, shaking like a leaf in Fitz’s arms. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins at having almost just fallen to her death, leaving her feeling dizzy and breathless. She leaned into Fitz’s chest, her arms weakly trying to wrap around him, and closed her eyes for a moment as she tried to compose herself.

“I’m fine,” she murmured against his shoulder. “Just--had a fright, that’s all.”

It was an understatement. After another moment, she opened her eyes to look at Mack’s prone form, lying a few feet away. Bobbi was worrying over him, not sure what to do. 

“We need to at least get him back to the quinjet,” she said, sitting up a bit. “To assess him and check his vitals, and decide where to go from there.”

Fitz backed up just enough to give Jemma space to see around him without actually having to take his arms from her. He wasn’t ready to part from Jemma after what had happened, needing the reassurance of being able to touch her. That didn’t last long, though, as Mack was still twitching a bit where he lay, making them all eye him nervously. 

They rigged up a restraint system and between the four of them managed to get Mack back into the quinjet, although it was a slow, treacherous process, leaving Fitz wincing each time their friend seemed to stir or growl. They managed it, though, and bound him hand and foot until they could meet up with the Bus once more.

When May landed she had her own news to deliver: Skye and Raina had both been taken off the Bus by none other than Grant Ward. Fitz sensed Jemma bristle a bit next to him at hearing that, and he placed a steadying hand on her back. She seemed to calm at that, whether from his touch or because the problem Mack presented was more pressing, Fitz couldn’t be sure. They decided to leave Mack in the interrogation room. There was a comfortable bed in there, at least, and with the modifications that had been made it was the most likely place to contain him for the time being. Fitz was hoping the other engineer would simply sleep off whatever had happened and snap out of it, but if the likely event he didn’t, they had the option to gas him. Hopefully it would work. The ICER rounds certainly hadn’t. 

Fitz did his best not to pace as Jemma worked, reviewing Mack’s vitals on the tablet in front of her, but it was a hard thing. Eventually he gave in to his nervous energy and asked, “Well? Is there anythin’ there?”

Jemma frowned at the tablet in her hands. “His heart rate and breathing is elevated, his core temperature is up, and his pupils were dilated, along with that--disturbing discoloration, but he doesn’t seem to be in any kind of shock. Which is good, I suppose, but I can’t make heads nor tails of what’s happened to him without any type of proper scan, and…” She shook her head. “We don’t have the equipment for that here. We would have, once, but…” She trailed off, thinking of how the lab used to be fully stocked on the Bus, but was now gutted. “I’m afraid the only thing we can do now is monitor him and hope it passes. Or, go back into the temple, this time with proper protective gear, and try to find something that could reverse it.”

It wasn’t a good solution at all, and she knew it, but it was all she had at the moment with her limited resources. She bit her lip, taking in Fitz’s dark expression, and laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry I can’t do more right now,” she said quietly. “Should we go update Coulson on what we have?”

Fitz covered Jemma’s hand with his own and gave it a light squeeze. He knew she was doing all she could to help Mack, but he still found it disquieting that they couldn’t _find_ anything causing his odd behavior. Fitz had spent so much of his life putting his faith in science that having it fail him always felt a bit like a slap in the face, regardless of circumstances. That certainly wasn’t on Jemma, though, and he gave her a small nod that they could report to Coulson. 

Their boss didn’t seem particularly thrilled about the news, either, having come to expect his two scientists to always have a ready answer, but he took it as best he could. “Well,” he asked, hands propped on his hips, “any idea about what may have caused the reaction at least?”

Fitz and Jemma looked at each other, neither of them sure of what to say. An idea bubbled up in the back of his mind, and he went with it, hoping it would make sense to Jemma and she could expand on his thinking as the others listened. 

“What if it’s like self defense?” Fitz looked around the room to see only blank stares looking back at him. “I mean, what if the city reacts t’ somethin’ unknown? Somethin’ that isn’t supposed t’ be there? It’s the same way the obelisk would when touched. Maybe, maybe the city reacts the same?”

“The way white blood cells would fight off a bacteria or a virus,” Jemma said, picking up on his train of thought and applying her knowledge of biochemistry to it. The idea opened up whole new trains of thought, and she could have kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. “There’s loads of possibilities...the city could have co-opted him, made him a part of it, like zombie ants. The city possessed and transformed Mack into a creature that would do its bidding. It’s just controlling him. Now, the question is...how do we get it to _stop_ controlling him?”

As far Coulson was concerned, that meant going down into the temple and setting charges to bring the whole thing down, therefore disrupting whatever powers it possessed. It also served a twofold mission--stopping Hydra from getting there first and doing whatever it was they wanted to do with the obelisk and Skye. Trip, Fitz, and Jemma were set to go below in hazmat suits to protect themselves and set the charges, while Coulson and May went to go track down Hydra’s plasma drill. 

Jemma was admittedly nervous about going down into a foreign environment where all of their tech was dead, and splitting up from Trip and Fitz to go set her assigned charge, but she had confidence in herself that she could get it done, and that the others would, too. She wished them luck, squeezing Fitz’s arm through the material of his suit, before running off to complete her task.

It was dark and hot in the tunnels, thanks to both the tropical climate and the impenetrable material of their hazmat suits. Fitz knew they were necessary, but the inconvenience was making him more than a little jumpy as he made his way to the spot marked on his map. The fact that he was constantly waiting for Mack to jump out at him and the fact that the flickering of his torch made it look like every shadow was coming for him likely didn’t help things either. Fitz went about his business as quickly as he could, setting the explosive and the charge before practically sprinting for the opening. 

Thankfully Trip and Jemma were already there, saving Fitz from having to haul himself up the line. They towed him up and they all began stripping off their gear, chattering away about what the next steps would be. When Trip stepped away to take a call, Fitz didn’t think much of it, until he came back, the call on speaker and his usually cheerful face grim. 

“Raina escaped into the tunnels with the obelisk!” 

“I wouldn’t lose sleep over it,” Trip answered, shrugging off May’s warning, “the place is set to blow in-”

“Skye and Coulson followed her.”

The three of them froze, processing what that meant. They had just set heavy explosives around the city, readying it to cave in, with their friends inside. All Fitz could think was that there wasn’t enough time to stop it - they had doomed Skye and Coulson to their deaths. Just as he opened his mouth to give voice to that, Trip wrapped the tow line around his arm and jumped into the opening, going back into the tunnels, before Fitz or Jemma could stop him. 

Fitz looked at Jemma for a beat, wondering what, if anything, they could do about Trip’s heroics. They couldn’t leave. Knowing Trip, he’d have both Skye and Coulson back in no time, and they needed someone here to help pull them out. If they’d been injured, they certainly wouldn’t be able to manage it on their own. 

“We should start packing,” he said to Jemma as he finished stripping off his suit. “That way, when they get here, we can just run for it. We’ll need t’ move fast once they come back.” 

“I agree,” Jemma said, bending to start taking off the rest of her suit as well. “Let me get this off and I’ll start packing up the suits, you get the equipment.”

She peeled herself out of her suit as quickly as possible, then grabbed the three of them and hastily folded them before shoving them into their case. She could properly fold and store them later; time was a factor here. Once that was done, she went to go help Fitz with loading the rest of their equipment into their respective cases. When everything was ready to go, she went back to the opening and looked anxiously down into it, checking her wristwatch. Time was almost up.

“Oh, I hope Trip was able to disable the explosives in time,” she murmured, twisting her hands together. But as time ran out, nothing happened. There were no sounds of explosions, no muffled roars, no shaking. Jemma looked up at Fitz and grinned, relief breaking over her features. “I think he did it,” she said.

A moment later, though, something strange began: a low rumble, starting somewhere deep beneath them, shaking the ground at their feet. It grew worse, until their equipment cases were rattling, and Jemma was having trouble keeping her balance. She moved away from the opening, looking to Fitz in concern. Whatever this was, it was too prolonged to be an explosion. Had Hydra brought a weapon or a device that they didn’t know about?

“Fitz?” she cried, reaching out for him as the tremors grew worse. “What’s happening?!”

He had no idea what could be shaking the chamber like this. If the explosives had detonated, even on a delay, Fitz would have expected to see the ground buckle beneath, something a bit more dramatic. This felt more like an earthquake, or at least what he imagined one would feel like.

“Jemma! C’mere!” he shouted over the rumbling, pulling her to him and doing his best to put them in the doorway while shielding her head. Fitz hoped that the door was on a load bearing wall. He was pretty sure this trick wouldn’t work otherwise. He held Jemma to him, clinging to her as they rode out the last of the tremors. It took what felt like forever - even though Fitz was sure it was only a few moments - but eventually they subsided, leaving the scientists in a room strewn with debris, but relatively intact. 

“Are y’ all right?” Fitz reluctantly backed away from Jemma, giving himself enough space to see her. He brought a hand up to her chin and tilted it upward, trying to determine whether or not she’d been hit by anything. “Nothin’ came down on y’?”

The questions were more to make himself feel better than anything else. He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, checking for anything that felt unusual to him, but Jemma seemed fine to him. That was a relief, and Fitz pulled her into another tight hug. She’d had too many close calls today, and he was finding that he was more than a little eager to get the hell out of Puerto Rico.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Jemma said breathlessly as he held her, holding on back just as tightly. She wouldn’t be afraid to admit that she was terrified, unsure what had just happened and with most of their team outside of communication. 

Carefully stepping away from Fitz, she walked over to where the radio Trip had been using earlier had fallen off their stack of equipment cases, and picked up. “May? May, do you copy?” she asked after thumbing the button on the side. 

After a few seconds, the radio crackled to life. “Simmons? What just happened, what was that? Are you two okay?”

Jemma blew out a breath. “Fitz and I are fine, just a little shaken.” She looked over toward him. “And we don’t know what happened. It was too drawn out to be an explosion, so it’s not the charges we set, I’m sure of that. Some type of earthquake, maybe? But I’m not aware of there being any fault lines running near here.”

“Have you heard anything from Coulson? Any word on Skye?” May asked.

Jemma threw Fitz a worried look. “No. Trip went back down to disarm the explosives and try to find them. But without comms, or GPS, or anything...we’ll just have to wait. But we’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything.”

“Copy that,” May said.

“And I hope we hear something soon,” Jemma said to Fitz as she set the radio back down. Fortunately, they didn’t have all that long to wait. Jemma was pacing nervously by the opening when the harness line began to yank and move agitatedly; she looked up to Fitz, her eyes lighting up. “I think that’s our sign,” she said, and moved to hit the controls to bring the line back up.

It was Trip who was on the other end. “This is just a courtesy call,” he said as Fitz and Jemma helped him to stand back on the floor. “I found Coulson, and Skye, but…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what all happened down there, but that obelisk, it _did_ something to her. Her and Raina both. Skye looks fine, she’s just out, but Raina…damn.” He shook his head again. “She ran for it. I just came to let you guys know our status and to tell you we need to find a way to get Skye out of there.”

Fitz’ eyes scanned over their rig, mentally calculating what they would need to safely get two people up on something only meant to move one person at a time. There wasn’t much that could be done; they hadn’t anticipated needing to rescue anyone, and nothing in any of their cases could move people safely. He turned back to Trip, shaking his head. 

“We’re gonna need t’ call the Bus, I think. We have equipment on there that can be adapted, but nothin’ here for now.” 

Trip nodded his understanding even as he strapped back into the harness. “All right. Give May a call, see how quickly she can get here. I’m heading back down. Hopefully by the time Coulson and I get Skye back here, you’ll be ready for us. If not…” He patted the gun that was still strapped into his thigh holster. “We better hope this is enough to keep Raina at bay.”

With a cheerful smile and a quick wave, Trip was gone again, leaving them to sort things out on their end. They were able to get a hold of May easily, and with her arrival managed to cobble together a passable harness for someone who was unconscious. Fitz wouldn’t want to submit it for final design approval by any means, but it would get the job done without hurting anyone. 

Trip and Coulson called up to them a short time after it was completed, and he and Jemma took turns shouting back instructions - Fitz on how to strap Skye into the harness and Jemma on how to do so without further aggravating any potential injuries. They did their best to guide Skye’s prone form up the shaft, with Fitz catching her as soon as he was able and Jemma unstrapping her. He helped Jemma lay her out on the floor, a safe distance from the opening, and sent the line back down to collect Trip and Coulson. 

Skye looked pale, even in the dim, flickering light of the garrison, and Fitz wondering if she wasn’t near to death. She certainly looked it, and after what Trip had described seeing… Either way, it was clear to him that they couldn’t treat her on the Bus. 

“She needs t’ go back, doesn’t she?” he asked Jemma, who had already started examining their friend. “She needs t’ be at the Playground, not in the field.” 

“Yes,” Jemma said, frowning. She had two fingers to the inside of Skye’s wrist, out of lack of any real equipment to scan her with there. “Her pulse is...erratic, and I’m very concerned that she’s been unconscious this long. I want to get her back to the Playground as soon as possible for proper care and treatment, and better medical equipment.”

As soon as Coulson and Trip came up the shaft, they gathered their equipment, and Skye, and headed for the Bus, joining up with Bobbi, Hunter, and May there. It was a tense ride back to the base; the only good news was that Mack had woken up in their absence, and seemed to be free of the alien city’s thrall. Jemma monitored Skye the whole time, deeply concerned for their friend, unable to know what to do given that she didn’t know exactly what had transpired down below the city.


	12. Chapter 12

Once they reached the Playground, Skye was moved into isolation, IV drips were set up to provide her with fluids, and blood was drawn to begin running tests. She actually woke up a short time later, and was able to provide them with an account of what had happened--the obelisk had opened up, revealing some strange blue crystals, which had then blown out some type of dust at her and Raina. They’d then been swallowed up by an awful rocky crust type thing (Skye’s words, which had made Jemma smile), and that was the last thing she remembered. 

Trip corroborated the black crust, though he said it was in pieces around both her and Raina when he found them. That had been just after the earthquake had stopped. Jemma lamented that they didn’t have any of it available for testing, as she would have liked to study its properties in hopes of fully understanding what had happened to Skye.

But perhaps the blood tests would help. The analyses were almost finished, and she was hoping they would provide some of the answers she was looking for. She knew Skye was starting to go stir crazy in isolation.

Skye wasn’t the only one. Fitz was starting to go a bit spare himself, with Jemma focused on what had happened to Skye and few technologically-based things for him to focus on in the lab and Mack still working his way back to being in the garage. He jumped at the chance to go back to the tunnels with Trip, sparing only a quick, “I promise t’ be careful. And bring back samples,” when Jemma gave him a significant look. 

They carefully documented the city, noting its size and scope, taking photographs and collecting samples. Fitz wanted to know what about the place had made his tech fail so spectacularly, and he was sure to get a few samples of the “crust” for Jemma as well. He and Trip handled it with care, wearing full hazmat suits after seeing what the obelisk could do to some people, but it still crumbled a bit at their touch. They did what they could, though, filling up as much of a sample bag as they could for Jemma before setting their charges and detonating them, leaving the alien city forever buried beneath the streets of old San Juan. 

The first thing Fitz did on coming back to the Playground was bring his samples to Jemma. He found her in the lab, bent over her terminal reading something. He glanced over to the far side of the room where Skye had been ensconced, and gave her a quick wave in greeting before sliding the samples onto the counter next to Jemma’s arm. 

“Hey. Brought back some o’ the, uh, the crust stuff y’ wanted. I think it should be enough t’ work with.” He gave her a warm smile and nodded over to Skye. “How’s she doin’? Anythin’ new?”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at him and sitting up so she could lean briefly against his arm. Then she looked at the sample bags he’d brought her. “Oh, those will do nicely I think, thank you so much. Hopefully they’ll help me learn more about what happened to Skye. And about that…” She nodded at her tablet, sitting on the bench in front of her. “The analyses I’ve been running on her blood samples from before and after San Juan for comparison should be done any moment now. That’ll be a big step.”

As if on cue, her computer terminal beeped, and a window popped up on her tablet as the results of the blood work analyses were sent wirelessly to her tablet. “Oh! Here we go, then,” Jemma said brightly, picking the tablet up and swiveling in her chair so Fitz could better see the screen. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

She brought up the basic metabolic panel first. All of Skye’s levels were within their normal ranges, which was reassuring. Protein electrophoresis didn’t really show anything out of the ordinary, either. Jemma hummed to herself as she read through the results, nodding to herself as everything appeared to check out. It was only when she tabbed over to the DNA profile that she stopped, her face draining of color.

“This--this can’t be right,” she murmured quietly, peering closer at the results. She tapped at the screen to bring up a visual diagram, showing the double helix of Skye’s DNA structure. “There are extra macromolecules here and that’s...that’s just not possible.” She looked up and across the room toward Skye, who sat in isolation looking perfectly normal. “Her entire DNA structure has changed, Fitz. Look.” She brought up a visual diagram of Skye’s DNA from the sample taken from before San Juan, showing the differences. Dread filled her stomach. “What if...what if she’s been infected with something? What if this is some sort of alien virus we don’t know about? But how could it change her _DNA_ \--” She sat back, pressing a hand to her forehead as a thousand nightmare scenarios ran through her head, making her feel overwhelmed and panicky.

Jemma’s panic was palpable, practically rolling off her in waves, and Fitz had to fight off his own as well. As soon as she’d said “alien virus,” he was thrown back to a year earlier, watching Jemma stand at the edge of the cargo ramp as she prepared to sacrifice herself for the sake of the team… It left him feeling ill, but Fitz forced himself to breathe deeply and concentrate. Jemma was their resident expert in pretty much everything biological. He - and the team - needed her to be able to think clearly in case they really were dealing with that kind of nightmare scenario, and that started with keeping her calm. 

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, not wanting to draw too much attention to them, “let’s stop and think. If it were an alien virus, Mack would be showin’ signs, too, right?” He knew that blood samples had been taken while Mack was knocked out. It should be a relatively easy thing to check. “We can check his blood first, t’ see if there’s anythin’ we need t’ be alarmed about. And then we’ll go from there.” 

Jemma inhaled deeply, trying to calm down, and draw strength from Fitz’s steadying presence next to her. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll get a sample of his blood that we took while he was on the Bus and run some analyses to compare.” 

She set her tablet down and walked across the lab toward the side room where the cold storage lockers were, where they kept all the blood samples stored. She had to pass by isolation to reach it, and Skye looked up from whatever she was doing on her laptop, throwing her a smile as she went. Jemma smiled in return, though it was forced and overly bright and probably not convincing at all, but Skye didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss.

In the storage room, Jemma pulled on some latex gloves before gathering the tubes holding Mack’s latest blood samples, then came back out into the lab to prepare the slides necessary to run the tests she needed. That took several minutes, and once the tests were underway and she’d put the blood samples away and shed her gloves, she came back to join Fitz by her workstation. 

“Well, that’s that sorted,” she said quietly, trying to keep her voice down so Skye wouldn’t overhear. Her fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the benchtop. “The tests will take a while to run. What do you suggest we do in the meantime?”

Fitz watched as Jemma went about her business, and only just stopped himself from shaking his head. As much as he loved her, he couldn’t deny that Jemma still had difficulty keeping her thoughts and feelings to herself. Even if she hadn’t confided her fears in him, the stiffness of her gait would have given away that something was terribly wrong. Even Skye saw it, given the way her smile fell as soon as Jemma walked past her. 

He knew he had to say something, and waited for Jemma to finish setting up Mack’s blood sample analysis before saying something. Thankfully, Jemma gave him a perfect opening. Fitz took her hands in his, stopping their nervous fidgeting, and looked over her shoulder toward Skye. 

“We should go talk t’ our friend.” It seemed that Jemma’s eyes widened a bit, and Fitz rushed to explain. “Not like, go _into_ the quarantine, mind, but we should talk t’ her. I mean, c’mon, Jemma. She’s been watchin’ y’ run around here runnin’ tests for how long? She knows something’s goin’ on, and it’s probably scarin’ the hell out o’ her that she doesn’t know what. 

“Talkin’ t’ her a bit might help things, yeah?”

Jemma bit her lip as she looked down at her hands in his. “Yes, but I don’t want to frighten her more, especially when I don’t know what these results even _mean_. Telling her that her entire DNA structure has changed without an explanation of why or what any long-term effects might be, or--or if she’s contagious, could be even more scary than saying nothing at all.” She blew out a breath, then looked back up at him. “Do you really think we should tell her?”

“So, we don't tell her about her DNA then.”

The words came out in a rush as Fitz tried to control his own emotions. Seeing Skye in isolation stirred uncomfortable feelings in him, far too similar to what he'd felt during his own recovery. He had hated feeling pushed to the side, even if it had just been in his own mind. Fitz had no doubt Skye was feeling similarly, even if she was hiding that fact. 

“Look, Jemma,” he sighed, bouncing a bit as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “I just… I know what it's like, bein’ on the outside lookin’ in. It's lonely. And a bit scary. Even if we don't tell her about her DNA, we could at least talk t’ her. Maybe help that part o’ it. That's all.”

Jemma’s breath caught as she took a small step back, her face stricken. She was only concerned with Skye’s well-being, and protecting her, the same way she’d been with Fitz, but--again, just like with Fitz--she’d never stopped to consider that her ways of trying to help were actually hurtful instead. It was beginning to seem like she had a rather predictable, damaging blindspot when it came to the people she cared about, and it made the guilt she’d felt with Fitz roar back to life. She had to look away from him then, the pleading expression on his face too much to bear. It almost felt like failing him again.

“No. Of course. You’re right,” she said quietly, pulling her hands out of his and balling them into fists at her sides. Taking in a deep breath, she turned to head across the lab toward isolation without waiting to see if Fitz would follow her. As she approached, Skye looked up, and she did her best to put on a warm, open face and smile.

“Hello, Skye,” she said. “I just wanted to let you know that the results of some of your lab work is in.”

“Really? About time,” Skye huffed, crossing her arms, though Jemma could tell her ire wasn’t directed at her. “I’m starting to go nuts in here, so the sooner you guys can give me the all-clear, the better.”

“Yes. Well.” Jemma’s smile thinned, but she forced herself to go on. “Most of the results look just fine. Your metabolic processes are all well within their normal ranges, nothing to worry about there, and the protein electrophoresis was normal too. White blood cell count was normal, red blood cell count was also normal, thyroid and vitamin D, all normal. I can’t rule it out completely yet, but I’m also fairly positive that whatever substance the obelisk sprayed at you was not a contagion, as you’ve shown no signs of viral or bacterial infection. But, considering we’re dealing with alien biology and technology here, there’s always a chance it could be going undetected, like the Chitauri virus did, _however--_ ” Seeing Skye’s eyes widen, she waved a hand, laughing uncomfortably. “--I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Okay, but you said ‘most’ of the results,” Skye said, giving her a hard look. “Which results don’t look fine?”

It took all of Jemma’s willpower not to look aside at Fitz, who she was aware was standing just beyond her shoulder. “I’m still waiting on a few test results to come in,” she said, as smoothly as she was able. “I decided to run some additional analyses on samples of Mack’s blood to cross-reference with yours, as he was affected by the city too, and we don’t have anything of Raina’s to test. I’m hoping the additional information will provide us with a wider set of data to understand what exactly happened, if anything.”

“Gotcha,” Skye said slowly, sitting back on the edge of her bed. “And you’ll let me know as soon as you know anything more?”

“Of course,” Jemma said. “I do have one question for you, though. Skye. Ever since you woke up, have you noticed anything...strange, about yourself? Any type of physical symptom that seems out of place, or out of the ordinary?”

Skye frowned thoughtfully. “Not really, I don’t think so...I mean, sometimes my hands and feet get that tingly feeling like I sat on them for too long and they fell asleep, you know? That awful white noise feeling. Why?”

Jemma braved another smile. “Just trying to get a full picture of your experience. Thank you.”

With that, she turned and left the lab, needing to put as much distance between it and Skye, and her, as possible before her anxiety overtook her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explicit content warning!

Skye's face fell as Jemma pushed out of the lab, shoulders slumping as her steps retreated. Fitz’ first instinct was to follow Jemma, but he knew she'd need a minute to compose herself, and he didn't want to call extra attention to her sudden flight from the lab. Instead he took a step closer to the bed and did his best to give his friend a genuine smile. 

“Hey, it's not y’, all right? It's just…Y’ know how Jemma gets, with, with alien stuff.”

It wasn't strictly a lie. Jemma had gotten jumpier around anything extraterrestrial since her experience with the Chitauri virus; Skye didn't need to know why, exactly, Jemma was feeling jumpy around her. She seemed to bounce back a little hearing that, and met Fitz’ eye. 

“I get it, but man is it boring in here. No one will even stop to talk to me. It's like I'm invisible over here.” She went back to picking at the bedclothes, seemingly trying to shrink from view.

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that. We've just been, uh, tryin’ t’ figure out what happened. It's kept us busy.” That was weak, and Fitz knew it. Skye had been a better friend to him than that and deserved more. “Now that I'm back, I'll be by more often. I'm gettin’ set t’ work on your tracker now, actually. It was in surprisingly good condition when we found it, so I should have it back t’ you in no time.” 

That seemed to cheer her, leaving Fitz pleased. He lingered a moment more, wondering if there was anything else to say when Skye saved him. 

“Thanks, Fitz. I appreciate that. Now go after Jemma.” She chuckled at his faux shocked expression and said, “Please, you've wanted to follow her since she left. Go. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He gave her a little wave and did just that, exiting their lab and heading straight for their room. If Jemma was feeling off, she'd go there instead of risking the common areas. He paused at their door and gave a soft knock. Any other day he'd have just gone in, but Fitz wanted to give Jemma some notice he was there, in case she needed it. He entered their code and stepped in then, softly calling, “Jemma? Where are y’?”

Jemma was sitting on the edge of her side of the bed, lowering her hand from her forehead and looking up as Fitz entered. She gave him a wan smile. “I’m here,” she said. “Did you--did you need something?”

She was aware she wasn’t being subtle, but she was almost too tired to try.

Her expression was all Fitz needed to see to know that Jemma was being too hard on herself. She had a habit of doing that, and it caused a wave of tenderness for her to break over him. Jemma had such a good heart, particularly where her friends were concerned, that she couldn’t help it. That didn’t mean she needed to do it alone, though. 

Fitz shut the door behind him and went to sit next to her, his arm coming up around Jemma’s shoulders automatically. “I just wanted t’ check on y’,” he answered, brushing a kiss against her crown. “Y’ took off kinda fast back there. Wanted t’ make sure everything’s all right.” 

“I’m fine,” she said quietly, not sure how convincing she sounded, and leaned her head against his. “I just needed a moment.” After a pause, she hesitantly continued. “It just...sometimes feels like no matter what I do, I always end up hurting the people I care about. I did it to you, when you were recovering, and now you’ve pointed out I’ve been doing it to Skye. And all I ever wanted to do was help and protect the both of you.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I should have learned my lesson with you.”

“Your heart is in the right place, Jemma,” Fitz murmured, giving voice to his earlier thought. “That’s what matters most.” He gave her a little squeeze and leaned into her, wanting Jemma to feel him supporting her. Sometimes that sensation could be far more effective than words. 

“And y’ aren’t hurtin’ Skye. You’ve just been busy, like everyone else, and you’re helping and protecting her by gettin’ answers. I just noticed she was feelin’ lost in the shuffle. That’s all. Sometimes…” Fitz licked his lips and gathered his thoughts. “Sometimes it’s too easy, as scientists, t’ get distracted by gettin’ answers. The other stuff fades away. Being injured, well, it, uh, it kinda helped me learn that. T’ keep the perspective in mind, too.” 

Jemma nodded, taking comfort from his arm around her. “You’re right. I know I have a habit of being rather single-minded in the pursuit of science, don’t I?” She chuckled weakly. “Even more so when my friends are at risk. I just feel like the sooner I have answers--good, concrete answers, the sooner and the better I can help them.” She tapped at his knee with one finger. “But maybe I could stand to learn a thing or two from you.”

Fitz said her heart was in the right place, but sometimes she feared her analytical nature and drive for answers left her a bit cold. If anything, she envied Fitz’s open heart and ability to pick up on some things that she couldn’t, not at first. 

“Oh, only a thing or two, huh?” he teased, knocking his elbow into Jemma's. Fitz knew she hadn't meant it the way it might be taken, but couldn't resist teasing her a bit. When you lived your life going from one high intensity situation to the next, it was easy to take things too seriously. They both needed to remember to take the time to laugh now and then. 

Wanting to make sure though, and never one to pass an opportunity to touch Jemma, Fitz reached over to direct her to look at him. 

“You are brilliant and kind and loyal just as y’ are. And that's what's gonna help us through this, okay?” 

Fitz’s teasing worked, and Jemma huffed a small laugh as he bumped her with his elbow, letting him jostle her a little bit. That was another thing she loved about him: his ability to make her laugh even when she felt miserable. When his fingers tucked under her chin, turning her face to his, she leaned up to kiss him, soft and sweet.

“Thank you,” she murmured, bumping her nose against his. “I think I needed that.” Then she sat back with a small sigh. “I just wish I knew what to do while those tests run that doesn’t involve me wearing a hole in the lab floor pacing back and forth and making Skye even more upset. I’m going to be a wreck until I get the results. Maybe I could start testing those crust samples you brought me.”

Fitz scanned Jemma's face, considering. Knowing Jemma the way he did, he had a feeling she hadn't left the lab to do much more than eat and sleep, and even that was hit or miss when she was wrapped up in a project. She didn't look worn down to him, but he could feel something coming off her - a kind of nervous energy, perhaps - that made Fitz think going back to the lab was the last thing she needed at the moment. 

“When was the last time y’ took a break?” Fitz asked, side stepping her speculation about the crust samples. If they hadn't deteriorated while they brought Skye back to the Playground, they weren't likely to do so now. They could wait. “I'm bettin’ not since you've come back. Skye is stable. Mack is stable. The tests are runnin’, and y’ know they'll take a few hours, at least. It's okay to relax a bit, baby girl.”

Jemma cast her mind back, thinking. She’d hit the ground running as soon as they’d returned from Puerto Rico and she hadn’t really stopped since. “Oh, I...I’m not sure,” she said faintly, still thinking. “We’ve been so busy, I just really haven’t had any time to think about it. I haven’t _wanted_ to. It feels irresponsible to take a break while Skye is still cooped up in isolation.”

But she sighed and looked up at Fitz, knowing that he was, as had been the norm lately, right. She decided to try and opt for a little bit of teasing herself, even if she didn’t completely feel it. She poked at his knee again, trying to smile, and said, “Well, what do you suggest I do to relax then, hmm?”

Fitz caught his lower lip between his teeth, both to hide his smile and to make a show of thinking. He had his own ideas about what could be done to pass the time, but he wasn't sure if Jemma was of a mind.

“Hmm,” he hummed, taking her hand in his. “That is entirely up t’ _you_ ,” he answered, giving her another kiss. “But I am entirely at your disposal. Whatever you'd like t’ do, I'm game.”

Jemma smiled reflexively into his kiss, feeling her heart warm. “You at my disposal...that’s a nice thought,” she said, tilting her head. “Well...we could always go to the common room, see who’s there, watch some telly and have a beer. I’d even play a video game with you. Or...there _are_ other methods of stress relief we could engage in.” Her fingers crept over his knee again. “We haven’t had much time to ourselves lately.” Which was true. They’d been going almost nonstop ever since she’d returned from Hydra, trying to keep one step ahead of the other organization, and there had been little time to pause and just breathe.

“Video games might be nice,” he teased, although any power behind it was undermined by the way his eyes fell to her lips. Even that little touch, Jemma's fingers just ghosting over his knee, was enough to make Fitz shiver. Who in their right mind would pass on having some alone time with their girlfriend, he couldn't say. Certainly not him. 

Fitz leaned in to kiss Jemma, curling his hand around her jaw as he did so, allowing himself to sink into it. She was right. They hadn't had much time to themselves lately, and most of the kisses they'd exchanged reflected that. Affectionate, to be sure, but not what Fitz would call passionate. He tapped into that now, teasing his tongue against Jemma's full bottom lip before pulling back, enjoying the way it caused her to chase after him. He couldn't tease her for long, though, and very quickly gave in to his desire to kiss her in earnest. 

And she did chase after him; she’d been surprised by the way the sensation of his tongue sliding against her lip had sent a hot flash of wanting zipping through her gut. Following him when he’d pulled away had been instinct, wanting more of that attention, more of that feeling. So Jemma hummed happily when he kissed her again, her hands lifting to rest on his shoulders, curling around the back of his neck, and let herself drink in the taste of his lips.

Just as he thought, their kisses of late hadn’t been unmeaningful, but they’d been rather chaste, done in passing in their bunk or the common areas, or tired pecks at the end of the day before they went to sleep. These kisses now felt like a luxury, long and slow and open-mouthed, tongues only just brushing, and Jemma felt her head rapidly going swimmy with the way they made her feel almost drunk. 

She drew his lower lip into her mouth, biting down gently and letting it drag out between her teeth, then soothed it with another open-mouthed kiss, enjoying the sound of Fitz’s groan, and pressed in for more kisses.

That nearly did him in, and Fitz felt himself start to go hard thanks to the heat of Jemma’s mouth on his and the thoughts floating through his mind. Thoughts that involved much less clothing and making a more complete use of the mattress than they were doing now. He gently urged Jemma to lay back, bringing himself to lie alongside her, one arm loosely banded across her waist while he supported himself on the other. 

Leaning over Jemma gave him a bit of an advantage, allowing Fitz to plunder her mouth at will as he pulled her closer, instinctively pressing his hips against her. The way he wanted her would never fail to amaze him, and it was with that thought in mind that Fitz began to undo the buttons of Jemma’s blouse. He started from the bottom, taking his time to tease his fingertips over the soft skin of her stomach before moving on to the next. At the same time Fitz turned his attention to Jemma’s neck, slowly laying open mouth kisses along her throat and enjoying each and every sound he pulled from Jemma. 

Jemma moaned softly as Fitz laid her back on the bed and kissed her hungrily, all tongue and teeth and raw passion, and she ran her hands up into his hair to hold him close as she responded with just as much abandon. Feeling his erection pressing into her hip as he pulled her against him only made another shock of heat run through her, and it settled a dull ache between her thighs. She pressed them together to try and stay her growing arousal. She was content to go slow and let Fitz dictate their pace, happy to let him direct the course of things rather than taking control as she often did.

That meant that when he started on the buttons of her blouse, she didn’t attack his shirt in return. She kept her hands in his hair, her breath hitching and another moan slipping out as his lips moved to her throat and he hit a sensitive spot there. His fingers trailing up the skin of her stomach and chest as he opened her blouse left tingles in their wake, and she couldn’t help but quietly sigh out his name, her body eager for more and curious to know what he would do next. 

He couldn't decide what he wanted to do first, and as a result his fingers ran slow, nonsensical patterns over Jemma's stomach and up and over her bra, nudging the material of her blouse open so he could better see what he was doing. Fitz purposefully circled her nipple with a fingertip, watching it pucker and tighten as Jemma whimpered. He did it again, knowing how sensitive her breasts were, grinning as he lowered his mouth to tease the other. 

Fitz knew exactly where he wanted to end up - his head between Jemma’s thighs as she moaned through her release. But he was keenly aware that she needed to unwind, and was more than happy to take his time getting her there.

Jemma’s breath caught again, sharper this time, as Fitz’s mouth closed over her nipple. The rasp of his tongue was delicious, even through the thin material of her bra, and she desperately wished that barrier was gone, so he could tease her bare skin and drive her higher. This was the opposite of unwinding--he was slowly driving her mad, her muscles going taut with building pleasure. She shifted restlessly as he continued to work her breasts, tilting her hips in search of friction that wasn’t there, breathing out soft little moans that she didn’t care to hold back. Another swipe of his tongue over her nipple and she arched her back a little, as if that would make him take in more of her breast, and she scratched her nails lightly over his scalp in encouragement, knowing he liked it. 

Fitz hummed against her skin in response, the feeling of Jemma's nails against his scalp sending pleasant sparks down his spine. He couldn't help but lean into her touch, wanting more without releasing her nipple. Fitz paused, his fingers skimming along the waist of her jeans, debating what he wanted to do next. He could feel Jemma's hips shifting, occasionally brushing against his hard-on and causing his breath to hitch, but wasn't quite ready to give in and undo her jeans yet. He'd get there in good time. 

Instead he tugged down the cups of her bra, exposing her to the cooler air of the room. Fitz kissed the swell of Jemma’s breast, giving it the attention he hadn't been able to earlier before suckling at her once more, his tongue swirling around the tight nub. 

Jemma outright gasped, her back arching even more and her hands curling into tight fists in his hair. “Oh, _Fitz_ ,” she moaned, her eyes squeezing shut at the wet warmth of his tongue on her bare skin. It was lighting her nerves on fire, sparking desire in her veins and pooling heat low in her belly, making her ache with wanting, her toes curling in her boots. She wanted everything that his hands and mouth could do to her _\--knowing_ what he could do--and the possibilities left her dizzy and panting.

But she loved it when he teased beyond the capacity for thought first by paying attention to just her breasts, so she kept her hands in his hair, holding him to her, and encouraged him to keep kissing and licking at them, letting him know just how much she liked it with every gasp, moan, and sigh and let out.

(This was definitely not an approved way to spend downtime in the middle of a workday, but no one else had to know about it.) 

Fitz was more than happy to oblige her, lavishing attention on each of Jemma's breasts until she was trembling against him. He couldn't tease her anymore - it would just be cruel at this point, to both of them. He considered taking her clothes off to make her more comfortable, but seeing her that way, thoroughly debauched with her cheeks flushed, the silk of her blouse open wide, and bra pushed down and her nipples slick with his saliva, was too titillating for Fitz to undo. 

Instead he kissed his way down her stomach, sliding off the mattress to kneel on the floor between her knees. Fitz undid Jemma's jeans and curled his fingers into the band as he inched them down along with her knickers. 

Jemma made a mewl of protest when he pulled away from her breasts, but her excitement shot back up when she felt his lips trail down her stomach toward where she really wanted them, and she hummed quietly, her hands leaving his hair to curl over the edge of the mattress.

She lifted her hips so he could get her clothes past the curve of her bum, and couldn’t stop from blushing slightly when her knickers clung. She knew she was wet from wanting him, knew _he_ knew it, but sometimes she feared the physical evidence might be a bit much. Trying not to focus on that, she breathed in deeply and concentrated on the cool air hitting her overly-warm skin as Fitz pushed her jeans and knickers to her ankles, then spread her knees apart, opening her up to him. Her nerves were practically singing in anticipation.

“Chris’, baby girl, you're soaked.”

Fitz’ words were soft and awed. He would never not be amazed by the way Jemma reacted to him. How he managed to be so lucky, he'd never know, but he was thankful all the same. 

Seeing the clear evidence of her arousal only served to heighten his, and Fitz could feel his cock surge against his zipper. He wanted to be inside her, wanted to claim Jemma, wanted to take her hard and quick until they were both spent, but pushed the thought aside, kissing her knee as he pulled her clothes from her ankles. This was about her, about helping her relax. There would be plenty of time for his own needs later. 

Fitz nuzzled against the inside of Jemma's knee, muffling a groan when he realized he could smell her, heavy and dark and purely female. He carefully lifted her legs over his shoulders and began kissing and nipping at her inner thighs, moving as steadily closer to her center.

Jemma blushed again at his words, even as she felt her gut tighten with desire at the tone of his voice. The sound of an aroused Fitz would never fail to turn her on, even if she was slightly annoyed by her own shy reaction.

But then he was teasing her by drawing out what he knew she really wanting, and her pulse sounded loud in her own ears, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the edge of the bed, her breath coming short and fast as she tried not to move her hips in anticipation of him finally finding her center. “Fitz,” she whispered, unable to keep from begging, “ _please…_ ”

He had never been one to deny Jemma anything, and when he heard her tone, Fitz knew the time for teasing her was over. He brushed his thumbs up her labia, opening her to him, and ran his tongue along her center in a slow, broad stroke from her entrance to her clit. She moaned when he circled the sensitive nub with his tongue, and he repeated the motion, wanting to hear Jemma make that sound again.

She was sweet, juicy as a summer peach, and all Fitz could think about was how he could make her come. 

She did, her moan long and quiet as pleasure washed over her in a warm wave at the touch of his tongue. The sensation wasn't sharp, not yet, not at this languid pace, and Jemma was eager to be eased into it, to let Fitz build that pleasure up steadily until it burst. She brought one hand up to stroke over his hair as he circled her clit with his tongue again, then let out a soft cry as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive nub, her hips stuttering up.

Fitz hummed against her sex, pleased by the way Jemma was reacting. He loved this, knowing he could bring her this pleasure, and focused on her clit, flicking at it softly in tune with the rise and fall of her hips. When Jemma began to speed up, thrusting toward his mouth with more purpose, Fitz lost some of his gentle touch. He wrapped his lips around her, sucking at her sensitive flesh, as he ran his fingers against her folds. He teased one finger inside of Jemma and groaned at the feeling of her sex wrapping around his digit, impossibly hot and wet. 

Soon he'd have Jemma wrapped around _him_ , and the thought was enough to make Fitz feel more than a little crazed. He began rocking his finger in and out of her, slipping just far enough inside to tease along her g-spot. 

Jemma moaned louder at the thrust of his finger inside her. It was a pale imitation for actually having _him_ inside her, but he was still rubbing over her g-spot, and that was making stars dance across her eyelids as the pleasure he was giving her spiked sharply. 

“ _Fitz_ \--”

Her instinct was to draw her knees up, spreading them wider for him, but her feet didn’t have any purchase, so instead she rolled her hips again and threaded her hand into his hair. She wanted to be gentle in the way she held him against her, but it was difficult when the rest of her felt pulled whipcord-tight by pleasure and the search for release. She could feel her orgasm building, the first flutters of her inner walls around his fingers and the way her thighs trembled, but she wasn’t there yet.

The pull of Jemma's fingers in his hair made Fitz growl, the slight sting setting every one of his nerve endings at attention. There were a dozen things he wanted to say to her - sweet nothings, praise for her, the things he wanted to do to her in that moment - but they all would have required him to take his mouth off her. There was no way he’d do that now, not with the way she was responding to him. 

Fitz could feel how tightly she was wound, how the muscles of her thighs shivered against his shoulders as she pressed up into his mouth, but something was off. Jemma wasn’t getting something she needed, and his mind began to race as he tried to find a solution that didn’t involve moving and ruining her build up in the process. He pushed up onto his knees, his shoulders lifting and spreading Jemma’s legs wider, opening her to him. He ran his free hand up the back of her thigh to her knee, holding her in place even as he slipped another finger into her. 

He picked up the pace, rocking his fingers into Jemma more quickly, making sure he curled them up and ran his fingertips along her g-spot on each pass. Fitz kept his tongue busy, too, flicking it against Jemma's clit in time with the movement of his hand.

The change in angle, pace, and the addition of another finger made the pleasure building within Jemma mushroom, and the moan she let out was practically obscene. She slapped her free hand over her mouth in a pitiful attempt to muffle it, but it didn’t do much good. The way Fitz was making her feel was eliciting a nonstop stream of gasps and moans and pleas now, and there was little she could do to stop it.

She loved how he could do this to her, lavish her with attention until she was ready to break, make her feel like she was soaring, bring her apart with the press of his lips and the flick of his tongue. She loved how he was the only person who got to see her like this, who would ever see her like this again if she had her way, loved the closeness and the intimacy that it brought. And she was so very close to the edge.

Jemma moved desperately against him, chasing the sweet friction of both his tongue and his fingers and the orgasm that lay just out of reach. Her entire body was tingling, her fingers curling tighter into his hair as she gasped at each pass of his tongue over her clit. “Fitz,” she breathed, “Fitz, _Fitz_ , I’m so close, Fitz--” 

The way Jemma was moaning went straight to his groin, his already insistent cock surging painfully against the fly of his jeans. It also sent a bolt of pure, masculine pride through him. He did this to her. Made her this wet, made her moan, made Jemma wild with passion. And Fitz’ favorite part was that he was the only one who got to see her this way. No one else on the base would ever see the way prim, proper Jemma Simmons with her high-collared blouses and staid cardigans came undone in their bed. That was for Fitz alone.

That thought alone was nearly enough to cause a mess in his jeans, but he held off. He could feel her walls shivering around him, the pulses stronger now than they’d been before. She was nearly there, and Fitz found himself trying to silently will her over the edge. 

_Come for me, baby girl_ , he thought as he looked up the length of her body, fascinated by the way she undulated against the bed, a light sheen showing on her flushed skin. _Let me feel y’._

Just the right roll of her hips, the right stroke of Fitz’s tongue against her clit, the right press of his fingers against her g-spot, and Jemma went over the edge. She came with a sharp cry, her back arching and her body going tense as she rode out the wave of her climax, her thighs instinctively trying to close around his head. Then she collapsed back against the mattress, loose and relaxed as she gasped for air, her mind blissfully blank, shivering as aftershocks ran through her body.

Fitz slowly backed off, easing Jemma through her orgasm with soft kisses pressed to her thighs and stomach. He took his fingers from her when it was clear the sensation had grown uncomfortable, and opted to run his hands over her hips and sides instead. Touching her was as much for Jemma as it was for him, a way to soothe her and settle him after watching her break apart like that. 

His knees, stiff from the way he’d been kneeling, protested a bit when he stood, but it was worth it. Anything would be worth it, as far as Fitz was concerned, if it meant seeing Jemma limp against the bedspread, cheeks flushed and chest heaving, clothes askew as she tried to regain her senses. As desperately as he wanted her, the tenderness he felt came to the forefront leaving Fitz softly smiling down at Jemma. 

“Feel a bit better?” he asked as he brought a hand up to rest on her waist, his thumb swiping over the indentation there. She certainly seemed to be feeling better, and he leaned down to kiss her without waiting for a response, simply because he couldn’t stand to be apart from her for even a few seconds at that moment. 

Jemma hummed lazily as he kissed her, in lieu of an actual response. All of her limbs felt heavy, almost drugged even, and it was a challenge to raise her hands to run them over his cheeks and back into his hair, savoring his closeness. She could taste herself on his lips, and that only made her feel even more satisfied. But not quite fully. There was still one thing left.

As Fitz kissed her, she let one hand fall back to his shoulder, then drift down over his shirt until it was at the front of his jeans; then she cupped him. He was still rock-hard. That hadn’t changed while he’d been going down on her, at least. She hummed again against his lips as she stroked her hand over him, and the dull ache at her center that hadn’t quite gone away for not having had him yet pulsed once. 

Having Jemma react this way, warm and pliable beneath him, was more than enough to make Fitz feel a little cocky, and he found himself grinning against her mouth. That changed when her fingers found their way to the front of his jeans, purposefully stroking him through the thick material. He moaned into her mouth then, his own hand coming up to cover Jemma’s, keeping her in place as his hips pushed into her touch. 

“Jemma,” he whispered, drawing her name out as he brushed his nose against hers. “Jemma, that is _not_ how I want this t’ end.”

“No?” she murmured, brushing another kiss against his lips, and though she couldn’t stroke him again--not with his hand holding her still--she didn’t loosen her grip. “How, then?”

Just the way she asked, with that slight, teasing edge to her voice, made Fitz shiver. He wasn’t sure if it was the question or the fact that Jemma was asking it - likely the combination of the two - but the end result was the same. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of making a fool of himself. 

“Inside y’,” he answered, more than a little breathless. “Please.”

As if he _really_ thought she’d make him come in his pants. Huffing, Jemma wrapped her hand around the back of his neck as she kissed him, hard, then pulled her other hand out from beneath his to fumble at undoing the button and zip on his jeans. 

Fitz took his hands out of the way so Jemma could do as she wanted with him, lifting them to his shirt collar instead. He tugged his shirt over his head, slithering out of it without bothering to unbutton it and tossing it to the side. He thought it might have landed somewhere near the chair in the corner, but the truth was he couldn’t bring himself to care about the damn shirt. Jemma had his pants undone and was busy pushing them - along with his boxers - over his hips and towards his knees. 

He shot a hand out toward the bedside table, pulling open the top drawer and fumbling blindly for a condom. Finding a packet, Fitz tore it open and rolled it over his straining erection, even as he was nudging Jemma to inch further toward the center of the mattress. 

Jemma got his jeans and his boxers down as far as she could before she acceded to Fitz’s pushing and slid to the center of the bed, shrugging out of her blouse as she did so. Then she reached behind herself to unhook her bra and quickly pull it off while Fitz fumbled at toeing off his shoes and getting his jeans and boxers the rest of the way off. It was all hasty and uncoordinated, borne of an urgency to come together as fast as possible. 

Once they'd tossed their clothes away, Jemma reached out to pull Fitz to her as she sank back against the pillows, kissing him while drawing her knees up, opening herself up to him.

Fitz groaned at the contact, the feeling of being skin-to-skin with Jemma almost too much to bear. She was warm and soft beneath him, and Fitz easily followed as she pulled him down, his hands sliding beneath her shoulders to pull her closer as they kissed. 

His cock nudged against her slick, swollen folds, and the sensation left him shivering in Jemma's arms. Fitz had been unbelievably turned on just by getting her off and now was doubly thankful he'd taken his time with her then. He doubted he could control himself half so well now. As if to prove that point, his hips gave a firm roll against Jemma, dragging his erection along her folds. 

Unable to wait longer, Fitz reached down to position himself, setting himself at her entrance. He leaned down to capture Jemma's lips with his once more and thrust into her, using her mouth to muffle his moan. 

They moaned in unison, the incredible feeling of Fitz filling her completely on top of the lingering whispers of her orgasm making Jemma shudder in his arms. She kissed him earnestly, stroking her tongue over his as she hooked her ankles around the back of his thighs, to keep him from pulling back out too far. She wanted him as close as possible, rolling her hips up and spreading her knees to let him in even deeper.

This was one of her favorite things in the world, this first moment of joining, that rush of pleasure that came from the first push of his cock inside her, the way Fitz groaned and held her close, the press of his chest against hers, how she could wrap her arms around his shoulders and pull him closer, their breath mingling as they panted hard with desire.

Jemma splayed her hands over his cheeks and kissed him again as she dug her heels into the back of his thighs, encouraging him to grind into her, and moaned again at the feeling of him inside her.

Fitz did as she bade, grinding himself against Jemma, doing what he could to focus on her clit in the hope of stoking her desire once more. He was in absolute awe of her, of the way she responded to him. There were plenty of days where Fitz wondered just what, exactly, he’d done right to be loved this way, to have someone who wanted him - all of him - without reservation. In the end, he supposed it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to question it, not when he had Jemma loving him this way. 

He broke away from their kiss to watch her face, fascinated by the way her eyes fluttered as he ground against her and the way her mouth formed a nearly perfect “o” when she gasped as Fitz pulled back. Jemma was his, just as he was hers, and that knowledge urged him to move, to chase his release and bring her along with him. 

Jemma moaned again as Fitz found a rhythm, clutching at his shoulders and neck as she rolled her hips in time to meet his thrusts. In all truth, she almost didn't care if she didn't come again, as long as he got his release. She’d been satisfied already. All she wanted was for him to find the same pleasure that he'd given her. So she kept him close, breathing moans and sighs and nonsense in his ear, giving her hips a little twist on each of his downstrokes, and reached down to sink her fingers into the flesh of his arse, encouraging him to go as hard as he liked.

The fact that it felt absolutely bloody fantastic for her, too, was just an excellent bonus.

“Oh Jemma, _Jemma_ , Chris’-”

Fitz’ head dropped, his forehead coming to rest against her clavicle as his hips pistoned against hers. Part of him - a quiet part, tucked far behind the rushing of his blood and the need that had taken him over - wondered if he wasn’t being too rough with her, but the feeling of her nails biting into his flesh chased the thought away. It seemed that Jemma wanted him a bit unhinged, and he was more than happy to follow his baser instincts in that regard.

He at least had the presence of mind to snake a hand between them, allowing his fingers to find their way to the slick little nub that he wanted. Fitz wasn’t capable of doing much more than resting them there, using them to apply added pressure as he continued to swivel his hips against hers. He hoped that would be enough, that maybe he could feel Jemma break around his cock, but the truth was he was too far gone for anything more. Still, he wanted to at least try to bring her with him, and Fitz found himself leaving sloppy kisses over her neck and chest as he tried to stave off the inevitable. 

It was enough. Jemma was still sensitive enough from her first orgasm that it didn't take much for Fitz to bring her back to the edge, to her great delight. The strength of his thrusts and the feeling of him bottoming out inside of her on every one of them had her gasping, clinging to him as her body trembled, her hips desperately working to find that perfect angle, the perfect way to press his fingers against her clit and hold them there while he pumped into her, his lips blazing a warm, wet path over her chest.

“Fitz, Fitz, _Fitz,_ ” she chanted, “oh _god_ \--”

Her orgasm broke over her hard, her hips bucking up into him as she cried out, his thrusts prolonging her pleasure until her vision went spotty.

Jemma’s release triggered his own, spurred on by her moans and sighs and the feeling of her clenching around him. Fitz took his hand off her so he could curl his fingers around her hips, holding her in place as he gave a few, final thrusts before hilting inside of her. He came with an abrupt shout, all of his passion uncoiling at once, and Fitz turned his face into the side of Jemma’s neck as he tried to get his breathing back under control. 

He lay there for a few moments, too weak to move, nuzzling at Jemma’s neck and jaw as he came back to himself. Eventually Fitz found his way to her mouth and gave her a series of sweet, if uncoordinated, kisses. He could still feel the rise and fall of Jemma’s chest against his own as they both worked to get their breathing back under control, could feel her nails as her hands roamed his body, and Fitz decided that if he had ever experienced a moment of perfect happiness in his life, this was it. 

Sooner than he’d have liked, Fitz had to pull away from Jemma, carefully lifting off of her so he could dispose of the condom. He came right back, just as he always did, and curled up along Jemma’s side, hauling her close. Fitz let his fingers trace over her hip and up to just below the curve of her breast before trailing back over her stomach, simply for the pleasure of being able to touch her. 

“Definitely better than video games,” he murmured, a teasing grin stretching the corners of his mouth as he looked down at the love of his life. 

Jemma beamed up at him, her eyes heavy-lidded, feeling sleepy and lethargic. It was really going to take an effort to get back up, clothed, and back in the lab.

“Definitely,” she echoed, then reached up to bring his lips down to hers for more slow, lazy kisses, reveling in the simple joy of being able to kiss him and take her time. It was enough to make her almost weightless with content pleasure again, and it was a chore to break their kiss after a few moments.

“I don't know how I'll get back to the lab now,” she murmured, nuzzling up at him.

“I know what y’ mean.” Fitz sighed before giving her another kiss. “But if we’re gone _too_ long, y’ know Skye will have somethin’ t’ say, lab techs be damned.” The truth was they’d likely been gone too long as it was and Skye would tease them anyway, but there was at least an outside chance they could get her to keep her voice down. “Besides, I brought new samples t’ play with, and I still have t’ look at Skye’s watch.” 

That wouldn’t likely take much of his attention though, and Fitz had a feeling he’d be spending most of his afternoon watching Jemma from across the lab and struggling not to react to the memory of what they’d just done, but at least working with a fitness tracker meant he wouldn’t be chancing damage to something state of the art. 

Jemma let her eyes slide shut as Fitz spoke, enjoying the quiet rumble of his voice and the brush of his nose alongside hers, the occasional whisper of his lips over hers.

“I should be able to run some preliminary tests on those samples while I wait for Mack’s bloodwork to finish,” she said quietly, reaching up to run her fingers through Fitz’s hair. The reminder of the analyses she was running and why was enough to thread a note of worry into her voice, but she tried to focus on the slide of his curls over her fingers instead. “I'm just wondering if--hmm. I wonder if I should just put my clothes back on, or if a shower would be prudent.”

Fitz hummed and leaned into Jemma’s touch as she combed her fingers through his hair. It felt good, good enough that his eyes slid shut involuntarily. The idea of Jemma simply sliding her knickers back up her legs and going to work intrigued him. There was something about knowing that he'd just had the privilege of pulling them off her that left him feeling possessive, and more than a little puffed up. But he also knew that if Jemma wasn’t comfortable in the lab, it would be a drag on her mood. 

“Whatever you’d like,” he answered, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. “Want some help with your back?” He caught her sidelong look and chuckled, shaking his head all the same. “I really mean t’ help, not… distract us. ‘M not 18, Jemma. I don’t bounce back like that anymore.”

Jemma couldn't help but laugh, remembering some of the times he'd been absolutely insufferable in bed as a teenager (and how she'd loved every minute of it). “I knew what you meant,” she said, eyes sparkling, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. “But I couldn't help but tease you. You left yourself wide open to it, really.”

Then she sighed and dropped back against the pillow. “A shower would be lovely, but it will take too long to do my hair and face again to make it look as if we _haven't_ been in here having bloody good sex in the middle of the day like we aren't supposed to.” She tapped the tip of his nose. “So I suppose we’ll be doing our own secret little walk of shame.”

With a smile and one last, sweet kiss, Jemma rolled out from underneath Fitz’s arm and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed to begin searching for her clothes.


	14. Chapter 14

Fitz bit back a groan as he took in the sight of a naked Jemma, perched at the edge of the mattress and looking for her clothes. It was enough to make him wish he _were_ 18 again, and to brush off the fact that they should have been working. Their professional lives intruded enough on their private ones; it only seemed fair to Fitz that the reverse be true for a change. 

He indulged himself for a moment more, watching the way her breasts swayed as she leaned down to begin plucking their mixed clothing off the floor, tossing his toward him and sorting through her own. Fitz swung his legs over the opposite edge and pulled on his boxers, quietly going about dressing himself. He made quick work of it, tugging his shirt on the same way he’d taken it off without bothering with the buttons and pulling up his jeans. He sat at the edge of the bed to put his shoes and socks back on, and waited for Jemma to finish getting dressed herself before heading back to the lab. 

He watched as Jemma peered into the mirror, doing her best to make sure she looked presentable before exiting. A thought bubbled up in the back of his mind, a question forming and falling off his tongue before Fitz could realize what was happening. 

“Jemma, do y’ think… Should we talk about birth control again?” It wasn’t that he minded wearing condoms if Jemma was happy with them, but he wasn’t opposed to getting rid of them, either. 

Jemma paused in the midst of fluffing her hair, looking up at his reflection in the mirror, where he was standing behind her. “Oh?” she said, sounding a little surprised. “As in, perhaps look into getting an IUD?” She pursed her lips as she looked down thoughtfully, finishing finger-combing her hair. “I suppose it _would_ be more cost-effective in the long run, especially if...well.” Her cheeks colored. “ _We_ are in this for the long run.”

They had yet to expressly discuss it, but Jemma knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Fitz, and was certain he felt the same. It was just that, as things so often went with them, they kept pushing the actual discussion of it off. 

Jemma’s “if” made Fitz’ heart catch in his throat, at least until she corrected it, and he stepped up to wrap his arms around her waist. He kissed her cheek and let his chin drop to her shoulder as their eyes met in the mirror. 

“Only if y’ want.” He and Jemma had always had great chemistry - and in turn fantastic sex. Using condoms didn’t change that. “I was just thinkin’-” Fitz blushed and looked down, hiding his face a bit against her neck. It was ridiculous to be embarrassed, given that they’d just slipped away in the middle of the work day to have sex, but it was a knee jerk reaction. “I was thinkin’ about how hot it would have been if, uh, if we hadn’t had t’ stop…”

He trailed off, feeling a little silly for having asked at all, but it was out there now. And really, it was Jemma. It wasn’t like he had anything to be embarrassed over. 

His shyness was endearing, even if he had no reason to feel that way. It brought a smile to Jemma’s face, and she folded her hands over his as she turned to brush a kiss against his temple.

“I’d have to agree,” she said quietly, a hint of a tease to her voice. “It _would_ be hot.” And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t ever imagined it herself, the thought of sex without having to pause to search for a condom, or how it would feel not to have any barriers between them. “I’ll make an appointment and see what my options are. How’s that?”

“Okay,” Fitz whispered, lips brushing against her neck. “That sounds good.”

Without any reason to keep them in the room any longer, Fitz unwound himself from around Jemma with a soft sigh. He wasn’t ready to go back to work, but if they stayed away any longer, they’d be missed. They likely already had been. Fitz opened the door and held it open for Jemma, waiting for her to pass through before shutting and securing it behind them. 

They ambled back to the lab, chatting about their respective projects for the rest of the afternoon. Fitz was still feeling affectionate, wanting to keep contact with Jemma, and found he had to shove his hands deep into his pockets to keep from linking their fingers together. They were out of their bunk, and professional boundaries needed to be minded once more. That was why he only gave Jemma a soft smile when they parted at the lab doors, and he headed for his bench tucked away in the corner. 

It brought him near to Skye, who fixed him with a knowing look before glancing down at an imaginary watch. She was grinning when she looked up once more, and Fitz knew what was coming. 

“Took an extended lunch, huh?”

Fitz nodded at her and looked down, trying to hide his grin. It was impossible to actually be upset when he was feeling this good, but he thought he should at least try to make a show of being bothered, if only because it was expected of him. 

“Somethin’ like that,” he responded, rifling through the papers on his work station and pulling Skye’s wrist heart rate monitor over to him. 

Just as he began to unscrew the backplate, Fitz heard music coming from her laptop and paused, trying to make out what it was. His head dropped forward when he recognized the beginning strains of “Afternoon Delight.” Unable to formulate a verbal response, all Fitz managed was to stick his tongue out at his friend before turning back to his work. 

Jemma looked up when she heard Skye snickering loudly, but all she saw was her friend sitting on her bed with her laptop in her lap, her shoulders shaking with laughter as she looked in the direction of Fitz’s workstation. Fitz’s back was to her, but his head was bent, giving the impression that he was studiously looking away. Jemma got the impression that it was probably better if she didn’t ask what was so funny, and turned back to her own terminal with a small smile.

Getting some slides prepared to run preliminary tests on the crust samples Fitz had brought back from Puerto Rico did go a long way toward filling up the time needed for Mack’s bloodwork to finish running. She had just dropped her latex gloves into a bin and removed her safety glasses when the program on her computer beeped, signaling the end of the software’s run.

She went back to her computer and clicked around with the mouse to send the data to her tablet with a certain amount of apprehension, not knowing what the results would show her and not sure she was prepared for what it would. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her tablet and brought up the results screens.

Metabolic panel, normal. Proteins, normal. White and red blood cell counts, normal. Vitamins, normal. Her finger hesitated over the last tab before she finally hit it. DNA analysis....normal.

Jemma swallowed, feeling as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Darting a glance up across the lab, she saw that Skye was watching something on her laptop while Fitz was still at work at his station. Looking back at her tablet, she brought up the results of Skye’s DNA analysis to put next to Mack’s. The glaring difference jumped right off the screen at her, settling a terrible sense of dread and unease in the pit of her stomach. Just like earlier, she had no idea what to do, or how to explain the change, or what it even meant for her friend. All she knew was that the very building blocks of her physical being had been rewritten, added on to. And it terrified her.

She glanced back up toward Fitz, wondering how she could get his attention without alarming Skye.

Fitz’ own work was slow going, and he found that he was trying not to get frustrated with himself. He supposed if he was looking for a silver lining, his hands were working as they should. The problem was his brain wasn't comprehending what the hell he was seeing. 

The outside of Skye's watch looked fine. A few surface nicks and scratches, nothing unusual for someone who spent the majority of training sparring. But the inside was in shambles - pins broken, the electronics battered - and Fitz was at a loss for how to explain how that happened. Hopefully he'd have some answers once he could get data off the stupid thing. 

He rebuilt it, piece by piece, salvaging what he could, and when it was ready Fitz plugged it into his terminal. He hoped it hadn't been corrupted somehow and would actually yield usable data, and thankfully that seemed to not be the case. He clicked into the data file and pulled up her heart rate information. Everything looked normal-

Until a few days ago, when she would have been in the Kree temple. Fitz followed the graph, seeing where Skye's heart rate initially spiked from it's usually low count to 90 beats per minute, but instead of leveling off it kept going, all the way to 300. The graph showed it staying there for a minute before dropping back down below 100. That couldn't be possible. 

Something cold slithered down Fitz’ back and he looked over to Jemma's station. She seemed as uncomfortable as she'd been before they took their break, meaning she'd found something she didn't like, too. Doing his best to remain calm and not alert Skye, Fitz closed out of the program, picked up a few folders at random, and made his way over to Jemma. 

“Jemma, I think, uh, well.” Fitz set the folders down and took a deep breath to gather himself. “I think you're right. There's- there's something wrong with Skye.”

Jemma looked up at him, her face ashen. “All of Mack’s tests came back normal. Including his DNA.” She tilted her tablet screen toward him, so he could see the comparison between Mack’s results and Skye’s. “His DNA structure is still perfectly fine, everything as it should be, while hers is...completely rewritten. Added to. All of those macromolecules...I don’t know what to make of it.” She hugged the tablet to her chest, her eyes wide. “What did you find? Is she--is she exhibiting some type of physical symptom?” She looked past his shoulder toward isolation, where Skye was still sitting on her bed, looking completely normal. 

Fitz gaped at her, unsure of what to say, or even if he wanted to say anything. All signs pointed to his friend being studied intensively, something he wasn't sure she'd want. But, if something was wrong, they needed to, or Skye could end up seriously ill, if not dead. That decided him. 

“How, uh, how fast can the human heart b-beat before, uh, before stoppin’?” He licked his lips, trying to settle himself. “Because Skye's re-registered as bein’ higher. Like, 300 b-beats per minute. And the watch, it, uh, it… It looks like it _s-shook_ apart.”

The look Jemma gave him was one of stunned disbelief. “Fitz, that--that’s _impossible._ The heart can’t beat that fast, it would--explode, stop, she’d go into cardiac arrest long before it got anywhere even _near_ that rate--”

She stopped herself, clicking her jaw shut before she started raising her voice in concern. “You’re absolutely certain?” she asked, her forehead creasing with worry. “You’re sure it wasn’t some sort of malfunction, or false reading, or affected by outside influences...remember the earthquake? Maybe that was it.”

“No, Jemma, y’, y’ don't understand. With everythin’ I've seen with the watch… The p-physics of it- the earthquake _started_ with Skye. There's, there's no other explanation for how the watch just, just _fell_ apart.”

Jemma gaped at him. “ _What_ ?” she managed. “You mean that Skye has--she’s--she’s developed some form of...superhuman _abilities_?”

She thought of how Skye had answered her questions earlier, how she’d said that her extremities sometimes felt tingly. She thought of how her DNA structure had been added onto in a way that definitely looked human _plus_. And how her heart rate seemed to have spiked beyond levels of normal human capability. A sudden thought occurred to her.

“You don’t think this has anything to do with the GH-325 in her system, do you?” she asked, her eyes fearful. “Coulson told us it was Kree in origin and the alien city was built by the Kree, and the obelisk was a Kree artifact, and…” She shook her head. “I have no idea how they could be connected, but what if it’s a possibility?”

Fitz shrugged, feeling more than a bit at a loss. Jemma was the biological expert; anything he had to say was just conjecture. He trusted that Jemma would be able to piece something together from that, though. 

“Dunno, maybe? B-but if it's the GH-325, shouldn't it show in, uh, in Coulson’s blood, too?” He blanched even as he said it. It was one thing to test a teammate's blood, but there would be questions if they were running tests on the Director’s. “M-maybe it's time t’ bring someone else in. May?”

Fitz trusted that Coulson's right hand would be able to temper their nervousness about the entire situation, and she'd be able to think of what the right next step was without scaring the hell out of everyone. 

“What about Skye?” Jemma asked anxiously, shooting another glance at their friend. “I agree that bringing this to May is probably a very good idea, but I told Skye I would come to her as soon as I had any more news. It's been a few hours, she's probably starting to get suspicious.”

Fitz glanced toward containment and just caught the jerk of Skye’s head. It looked like she was merely working on her laptop, but he had the distinct impression that she’d been watching them. He looked back to Jemma, nibbling on his lower lip as he tried to decide what to say. They had never encountered anything like this, and Fitz had no idea what the hell they were supposed to do next. 

He did what his mum had always suggested and put himself in Skye’s shoes. He’d want to hear it from his friends, and he’d want them to come to him first. Fitz scanned the lab, and realizing that most of the other scientists and techs were out for their afternoon break, made a snap decision. 

“All right, we tell her now.” Jemma looked a bit panicked when he said that, and Fitz rushed to reassure her. “The lab is mostly empty. We can tell Skye and then the three o’ us can decide what t’ do next. It isn’t ideal, but I’m not sure there’s another option.” 

“You’re right. “Jemma took in a few deep breaths to try and steady herself. “Oh, this is just--very stressful.” And she wasn’t even the one whose DNA was all out of whack. Trying her best to give Fitz a bracing look, she nodded and clutched her tablet closer to her chest. “Alright, let’s do this, before any of the techs come back from their break.”

She turned to head for isolation, trusting that Fitz would follow her, and put on her best face as Skye looked up when they approached. Her face may have looked pleasant, but she felt all kinds of awful. “Well, the last of your tests have finished running, Skye, and I’ve got your results,” she announced as she came to a stop in front of the glass barrier. Skye immediately sat up, setting aside her laptop and giving them her full attention.

“Great, let’s hear it,” she said earnestly, though there was an undercurrent of nervousness to it.

Jemma looked briefly aside at Fitz before consulting her tablet. “The results of your DNA analysis were a bit troubling,” she said carefully. “That’s why I wanted to run a test on Mack’s blood as well, for comparison. I wanted to see if he’d been affected as well.”

Skye gave her a hard look. “Troubling how?” she asked bluntly.

Jemma bit her lip. “It might be best if I just show you,” she said, and made a few taps at her tablet. Then she turned it around so Skye could view the screen. She got up and crossed over to the glass, peering down at the tablet. Her eyes scanned the readouts, her brow wrinkling, but after a moment she shook her head.

“What am I looking at here?” she asked, troubled.

“It’s a comparison of your DNA taken from a sample of your blood before you went to Puerto Rico, and another taken after you were brought back, after you were exposed to whatever was inside that obelisk,” Jemma explained, watching Skye closely. “It’s...completely rewritten your DNA structure. It’s added to it. These extra parts you see here, they’re macromolecules that shouldn’t even exist. It’s...it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

Skye crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Okay, so, so...what does that mean?” she said, looking back up at them worriedly, her eyes wide. “I mean, I haven’t suddenly turned into an alien or anything, I’m still _me_ , right? I haven’t mutated or whatever.”

“Of course you’re still you,” Jemma said quickly, pulling her tablet back to her chest. “As far as well can tell, nothing about you has changed, aside from your DNA structure. And, well, your heart rate.” She looked at Fitz. “We did find one other thing.”

“Right, uh,” Fitz pursed his lips and planted his hands on his hips as he looked at Skye. Despite trying to hide it, she looked scared, nervous, in a way he hadn’t seen in awhile. Hopefully he could say what he needed to without troubling her more. “I fixed your, uh, your watch. When I opened it, it, the insides were, well… It looked like they’d been, s-scrambled, or somethin’, with no damage t’ the outside. And once I pulled your data off it… Skye, your heart was beatin’ at 300 BPM. That’s, that’s inhuman.”

Whatever she had been expecting, it clearly wasn’t that, and Skye took a step back from the glass toward her bunk, landing heavily on the edge of the mattress. Fitz watched as she began to shake, and could swear he felt the ground beneath them rumble. He reached for Jemma automatically, hand wrapping around her arm, but addressed Skye all the same. 

“Skye, if you’re doin’ this, y’ need t’ calm down. We, we can’t let on about this. Not yet, all right?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath as she closed her eyes. Fitz recognized it as being part of Skye’s meditation routine, and sure enough the shaking calmed around them. It had stopped by the time she opened her eyes and looked between him and Jemma. 

“Okay. You found something...off, in my results. What do we do now?”

Fitz looked from Skye to Jemma and back, and deciding honesty was his best policy, gave a shrug. “We honestly don’t know. We’ve, we’ve never encountered somethin’ like this before.” 

Jemma nodded. “It’s like I said, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. And--until we know more, until I can get a better understanding of what this might mean I... _we_ \--” She gestured between Fitz and herself. “We think it would be best if we keep this between us for now, in order to not cause...undue concern, where maybe there shouldn’t be.” She tried to give Skye a reassuring smile. “Because, again, you haven’t been exhibiting any negative symptoms since you’ve been back, and there’s been no sign yet that these changes mean anything harmful for you.” She swallowed. “We would like to bring May in on this, though, for a little bit of senior guidance and advice. With your permission, of course.”

Skye nodded. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she said, still hugging herself, her eyes a bit glassy. Jemma wondered if she would have approved of them doing anything in that moment, but she didn’t want to press anything. She had a lot to take in right now. Feeling her heart tug, she took a small step forward. 

“Is there anything we can do for you, right this moment, Skye?” she asked softly. “I know this is a lot to take in, and I hate that we don’t have any real answers for you. But I promise, we’ll do everything we can to figure out what’s happened and what this means for you.”

Despite his worry about Skye and how she was feeling, Fitz couldn’t help but be a little proud of Jemma in that moment. It seemed like she had taken what he’d said about his own recovery to heart and was readily putting it in action. While wrapping her in a hug like he wanted wouldn’t go over well in the moment, he did what he could, stepping up and resting his hand on Jemma’s shoulder, giving it a little squeeze.

“No, not really, unless you’ll consider sneaking in something other than rabbit food.” It was a weak attempt at a joke, but at least Skye was trying to get back to herself. Fitz could appreciate that. 

“I have some chocolate stashed away,” he offered, giving Skye a quick smile. “Unless y’ have a request?”

“No, chocolate is good.” Skye fell silent for a beat, licking her lips as she clearly tried to find the right thing to say next. “Just, promise me that when the time comes, you’ll let me tell Trip. I get why you want to tell May first, that’s fine, but before everyone else finds out, let me talk to him. Okay?”

Fitz nodded, understanding why Skye would make that request. After all, if he would want to deliver that news to Jemma if he were in Skye’s shoes. Jemma did, too, if her emphatic nod was any indication, and they promised Skye they would be as discreet as possible, finding the right moment to talk to May. That seemed to bolster Skye’s spirits a bit, and after Fitz had fetched the promised chocolate out of his lab drawer, they left her to process the information on her own. 

“Do y’ think we’ll be able t’ pull May aside tonight?” Fitz wanted to get the ball rolling as soon as possible, the better to put them all at ease. “And do y’ think we should be testin’ Coulson’s blood, too?” If Skye’s change had been caused by the GH-325, that meant the Director was at risk as well.

“I think so,” Jemma said thoughtfully as they walked down the corridor. “You know she usually does some meditation exercises before she goes to sleep at night; I think if we catch her after dinner, before she starts--that would probably be the best time to talk to her. And yes, I think I should run a test on Coulson’s blood as well, just to be safe.” She paused talking for a moment while they passed a few lower-level agents who were headed to the common area. “I’ve got several samples already on file, so I won’t have to draw any, and I can run the tests during the day while we do our other work, so it won’t raise any suspicion. Honestly, if Mack wasn’t affected, I don’t think Coulson will have been. It’s the obelisk that’s the determining factor here, I believe. But definitely being able to rule him out will put my mind at ease.” 

Fitz could see the logic of what Jemma was saying and nodded his agreement. All they could do now was wait for dinner. The minutes ticked by slowly, not helped in the least by his growing anxiety about interrupting May’s routine. Fitz wasn’t exactly afraid of May anymore, not the way he’d been the prior year, but she was still an intimidating woman. Even knowing how deeply she cared for each of them in her own way didn’t make the prospect any easier. 

Still, Fitz and Jemma did their best to act normal, eating dinner with the rest of the team and doing their best to joke with Trip and Mack and Bobbi and Hunter without being too obvious about watching May. They likely failed, though, given the way Fitz spluttered an excuse when Jemma caught him in the ribs with an elbow, nodding toward the door. They cleared their things and took off after May, trying to catch her without actually breaking into a jog. 

“You needed to speak to me?”

Once again, Melinda May proved to be nearly prescient, turning on a heel and looking them dead in the eye. 

Fitz froze for a moment before taking the final few steps towards May, Jemma right next to him. He glanced around to be sure they were alone before speaking. 

“We, uh, it’s about Skye. She, she’s changed and, well…”

“All of her lab results are in and some of them are very concerning to us,” Jemma said, stepping in where Fitz left off. 

May’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean, she’s ‘changed’?” she asked, a sharp tint to her voice.

Jemma couldn’t help but dry wash her hands a little as she prepared to launch into her spiel. “The structure of her DNA has been completely rewritten,” she said, watching the older agent’s face change as she spoke. “It’s been added to, like she’s human _plus_ now. There are extra macromolecules that shouldn’t even be there. It’s like nothing Fitz or I have ever seen before, and I have no idea what to make of it right now, not without further research and study. And that’s not all.” She glanced aside at Fitz. “Fitz took some readings from Skye’s wrist unit that recorded a heart rate that far surpassed anything the human body is capable of, without any damage to Skye at all. And he’s positive it wasn’t a fluke or a malfunction of the unit. Remember the earthquake in San Juan?” May nodded her head, and Jemma frowned. “We...we believe that Skye was the _cause_ of that quake.”

May took a moment to look between the both of them. “So what you’re telling me is that whatever happened to her down there, it’s--altered her, somehow?”

Exchanging another glance with Fitz, Jemma nodded. “Yes. We believe that the mist that the obelisk transmitted has recoded her DNA structure and...given her some form of superhuman capabilities.”

May blinked twice. “Have you told her about this yet?”

“Yes.” Jemma nodded again.

“And Coulson?”

“We, we haven’t told Director Coulson. Yet.” 

Fitz swallowed heavily at the admission, second guessing his instinct to tell May first and not go directly to Coulson. He had just figured that with as busy as the Director was these days it was better to run it up through the chain of command, and told May as much. She nodded, seeming to take in the information and mulling it over. 

“That may be for the best. He’s so focused on Hydra and making them pay for trapping Skye in the city, I’m not sure how he’d take this news.” She looked between the two scientists, clearly more curious than upset, and Fitz felt the tension in his chest ease. “Do you have your findings?”

“In, in the lab,” Fitz volunteered, needlessly pointing through the large glass walls. 

“Show me.”

Skye stood as they walked in, her face a mask of uncertainty. There was a faint metallic clinking and Fitz realized that the tray of instruments near the containment room had begun to shake ever so slightly. The knowledge that it was Skye causing that stunned him, and quickly turned to fear when he realized the damage she could do in the lab if she shook as badly as she had in San Juan. 

“It’s okay, she knows.”

That calmed her, or at least relaxed her enough to stop the shaking. Fitz and Jemma walked May through their findings, with Skye chipping in with answers they didn’t have, such as what she remembered from the chamber. Between the three of them, they were able to paint a picture of what they thought may have happened for May. 

“Compile your findings in a dossier. I’ll use it to brief Coulson in the morning. The sooner he knows about this, the better. Is she contagious?” Fitz and Jemma looked at each other and shook their heads. “Then let her out so she can sleep in her own bed. Tomorrow, you and I start training. We’ll see what you can do, and more importantly if you can control it.” 

That last part was directed at Skye, and had a tone of finality that clearly indicated they were done for the night. As May left, Fitz crossed to the quarantine room and punched in the code that would release Skye, pushing open the door so she could step out. 

Jemma came over to stand just behind Fitz as Skye collected the few things she’d been allowed to keep inside isolation and walked hesitantly toward the door, pausing on the threshold. 

“So...what now?” Skye asked uneasily, looking between the two of them.

Jemma gave her the best reassuring smile she could, stepping forward to reach out and lay a light hand on her arm. “For now...just try to get a good night’s rest in your own bed. Hopefully that should help.”

She huffed a laugh that held very little humor and looked down. “Yeah, after finding out my DNA’s gone all crazy? Not sure I’ll be sleeping much. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Giving them a wan smile, she turned and walked out of the lab, heading for her bunk.

Jemma sighed as she watched her go, then looked up at Fitz. “I wish there was more we could do for her now,” she said, hating the slump to her friend’s shoulders and the wealth of unanswered questions she herself had.

Fitz laid his arm across Jemma's shoulder, pulling her closer so he could press a kiss to her hair. “I know,” he murmured. “Me, too. But all we can do now is what May asked. We'll put that dossier together and go from there. Everythin’ else… Well, Skye needs t’ sort that for herself.”


	15. Chapter 15

It was quick work, thanks to the fact that they’d basically done it all already, meaning all they really had to do was compile it into one, organized folder that could be handed over to Coulson. They left it on May’s desk and tucked into bed themselves, wrapping around each other for a fitful night’s sleep. Fitz recognized that it was because he was worried about Skye, and he wagered Jemma’s tossing and turning could be chalked up to the same reason.

When it became clear that restful sleep wouldn’t come and the clock finally ticked over to a time it was acceptable to be out of bed, Fitz slipped into the kitchen to make them tea. He wasn’t a morning person by any means, but he could see why May, Jemma, and the other early risers on the team liked the quiet that pervaded the base. It made it easier to think, and he found his mind picking at the idea of what Skye had become. By the time he had their mugs ready and on a tray, he had ideas about tech that could be built to both accommodate and enhance her apparent earthquaking abilities, although it would all depend on what she was actually capable of achieving. He made a mental note to talk to Jemma about it once they were in the lab for the day, and let himself into their room. 

“Mornin’, Jemma,” he greeted her, smiling as he held up the mugs. “Though’ we might need these. If May gives Coulson that folder first thing, I’m bettin’ we’re called in by 9.” 

Fresh from the shower, Jemma had just finished drying her hair, and was doing up the buttons on her blouse. “Oh, look at you,” she said, smiling warmly at him as she did the last button. “I thought you might have gone to the kitchen when I got out of the shower and you were gone.”

She came over to accept her mug of tea and gave Fitz a brief but soft kiss of thanks, then took a sip of it as she walked back over to the wardrobe. She set the mug down on the dresser as she looked inside to select a cardigan.

“I’d wager we might get called in even earlier than that,” she said, thumbing through her clothes. “You know how much he cares about Skye. Hydra may be a priority right now, but once he finds out how much the obelisk has affected her, he’ll put her near the top, too. And with good reason.” Finding a cardigan she liked, she pulled it from the wardrobe and started pulling it on. “And I really want to get started on my research. I want to see if I can find anything throughout history on that obelisk, what it’s been used for and what meaning it has, if it has any sort of connection to the Kree. Maybe we can find accounts of other people who have been affected by it. If anyone besides Whitehall had any interest in it, at least.”

Seeing the logic in Jemma wanting to start with the obelisk, Fitz put his daydreams of tech crafted specifically for Skye to the side, instead throwing himself into helping Jemma. Their research didn’t yield much, though, other than a few legends from Asia that claimed “blue angels” came from the sky and “blessed” a certain few with supposedly wonderful gifts. Given Skye’s heritage there could be a connection there, but it was tenuous at best. 

Their research was interrupted by reports of Lady Sif being spotted in Portugal, although by all reports she wasn’t acting like herself. Worried about what that might mean, Coulson pulled their resources to focus on aiding her in whatever way possible, something Fitz found irksome. As fascinating as he found Asgardians, he would have rather been focused on Skye. 

Unfortunately, it turned out Lady Sif, and the Kree she’d followed to Earth, were more interested in Skye, too. The entire team had bristled when they declared that she was dangerous and needed to be put down for their safety and the safety of all humankind. Coulson made it absolutely clear that that wouldn’t be happening, and eventually Sif backed down, but not without a stern warning that left Skye shaking, both literally and figuratively. 

They hustled her into the Bus, hoping the Vibranium-reinforced cage would be enough to prevent her powers from leaking out. Fitz and Jemma did their best to talk her through it as they walked along, but nothing they said seemed to get through. Eventually she picked up a gun - actually an ICER, Fitz later realized - and shot herself in the chest, scaring the hell out of all of them. 

The incident with Sif and the Kree, and Skye’s personal method of self-shutdown, left Jemma very troubled. She hated the thought of her friend needing to be ‘put down’, as they had so bluntly put it, and it had left a bad taste in her mouth. Skye wasn’t a danger to be contained. They just needed to understand her abilities in order to control them, Jemma thought. Then she would no longer be in danger of harming herself or others.

The rest of the team had mixed reactions to learning of what Skye had become, from Hunter’s neutral acceptance to Mack’s fearful wondering if maybe she _should_ be locked away. That had upset Fitz a great deal, and Jemma thought that maybe he empathized with Skye, knowing what it was like to suddenly be different and have your friends judge you for it.

First thing in the morning the next day in the lab, Jemma set aside her research on the obelisk and approached Fitz at his bench in the corner. “Fitz,” she said, “I’m wondering if perhaps we can’t come up with something to help Skye. Something she can wear, maybe, that can inhibit the quaking she produces, or lessen it, help her control it. At least until we better understand how it works and how it functions. I…” She trailed off, frowning. “I would hate for what happened last night to happen again.”

Fitz tapped his fingers a bit, pondering what Jemma was saying. His mind began to race, picking apart the bare bones ideas he’d had the day before about designing things for Skye. He pulled his tablet over, cued up the drafting program, and began a rough sketch of what he’d started to toy with. 

“I was thinkin’ gauntlets,” he began, “ since Skye seems to use her hands when makin’ things shake. But I was thinkin’ about somethin’ t’ amplify the vibration - not that I’d have any clue how t’ do that until the exact nature of her powers became clear. But in theory, the same kind o’ device could be used t’ dampen them, too. Maybe a switch, or somethin’, so she could switch between the two?”

He finished his work and handed the tablet over to Jemma to look over. “The material we use in the tac gear is thin enough t’ be flexible but durable enough t’ protect any electronics we put in them. I just need t’ know how her powers work so I know what needs t’ go in ‘em.” 

“Amplify?” Jemma asked, taking the tablet from him and looking his ideas over. “Well, I suppose you’re right--we would want to let her keep her options open and not just limit her to dampening her abilities. One day in the future she might actually _want_ to use them. So yes, a switch of some sort would be a good option. Or perhaps just an inhibiting pair of gloves for now, while she learns control, as we continue to work on a pair that would refine her abilities in both directions.” She smiled at him. “Remember the material we used for Mike Peterson’s suit? Maybe we could use a version of that as well, and incorporate the nanofiber technology you created. That might be an excellent start.”

“An excellent start indeed, Dr. Simmons.”

Fitz smiled back at her, his hand reaching down to find hers and give it a brief squeeze, the most affection he felt comfortable showing while they were at work. He let go of Jemma’s hand quickly and turned back to work, eager to produce some kind of prototype as quickly as possible considering the aim was to help Skye. Fitz asked Jemma to stay with him so he could ask her about the biological underpinnings of Skye’s ability, reassuring her that even a theoretical explanation was better than anything he could come up with on his own. 

It took them all day, and more than one burst of frustration from Fitz, but eventually they had something that they thought would benefit Skye. Or, at the very least, not do any more harm than she was currently experiencing. Fitz slipped the gauntlets off the wire forms they’d been using and into the case Jemma held open for him. 

“The compression on those might be a bit tight t’ start,” he said, thinking aloud, “but the more she uses them, the more comfortable they should become. They’ll stretch to fit her hands.”

“Right,” Jemma said, snapping the lid on the case shut. “I’ll be sure to tell her that before she puts them on, just in case you forget to.” She smiled at him, pleased with the work they’d put in. It wasn’t their most groundbreaking work, but it was to help Skye, and that made it all the more worthwhile for her. “Shall we go ahead and go give them to her? The sooner the better, I think, so she can adjust to wearing them.” Fitz nodded, and they turned to leave.

As they exited the lab, May walked past them in the corridor, talking with an unfamiliar man dressed in a casual suit. Jemma frowned as she and Fitz fell into step several paces behind them, especially when she realized they were likely headed for the hangar the same as they were--likely to see Skye.

She leaned in to Fitz’s shoulder. “Did May or Coulson say anything about bringing in consultants?” she murmured, low enough for only him to hear. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him around the base before.”

“No, no one said anythin’ t’ me,” Fitz answered, eyes narrowing as he watched May speak with the man. The stranger was good looking - enough so that once upon a time Jemma’s interested tone would have bothered Fitz greatly - and if he had to venture a guess, roughly May’s age. They came to a sudden stop, and Fitz found himself flapping the back of his hand against Jemma’s shoulder. 

“Jemma,” he hissed, “Jemma, please tell me y’ see that! May, May is _smiling_.”

Sure enough, that was a smile, a full one, with teeth and everything, stretching Melinda May’s mouth. If he weren’t seeing it with his own eyes, Fitz wouldn’t believe it possible, but as it was all he could do was stand there and stare. He found the sight that shocking. 

“Oh, I am. That is definitely a smile.”

It _was_ shocking, and Jemma was hard-pressed not to stare herself. Instead, she snapped her mouth shut and moved to walk around the pair, tugging on Fitz’s cardigan to pull him after her. May was indeed smiling, which was extremely bizarre--and to make things worse, as Jemma and Fitz passed by them, something the man said to her actually made her laugh.

Jemma’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head, and she hastened her steps, not letting go of Fitz’s arm until she’d jammed her hand down on the button to open the door leading into the hangar. “Fitz!” she cried softly, turning to face him and stepping into his space. “Did you hear that?! She laughed! May _laughed_!” She looked back down the corridor, where May and the man were still stopped, deep in discussion. “Who _is_ he?!”

Fitz’ shoulders raised as he shook his head, still too astonished to gather his thoughts and content to simply follow Jemma. Once they passed through the hangar doors, the spell seemed to be broken and he was able to speak once more. 

“No bloody idea, but we need t’ keep him around. That was _so_ much better than Miami!” Seeing Jemma’s confused look he explained, “While y’ were at Hydra, there was an op in Miami. We all heard May fake laugh over comms and… Well, it was like nails on a chalkboard, t’ be honest. That was, well, that was actually nice t’ hear.” 

That was the honest truth. As tempting as it was to write Melinda May off as The Cavalry, someone who was all work and no play, who didn’t need downtime, and with how good she was at her job, May made it easy to think that way. But after living and working with her for a year, and seeing how she cared for them all in her own, quiet way, Fitz couldn’t help but want her to be happy the way he was, with Jemma. She deserved that. 

They came to a stop in front of Skye, who was standing to the side, shuffling a bit as she waited for the transport to finish loading. Looking around, Fitz could see that there seemed to be several weeks of supplies being sent with her, and he frowned a bit. Sending Skye away didn’t seem any better than “putting her down” as the Kree had suggested. 

“How long do they think you’ll be gone?” he asked, knowing better than to ask where she was going. He and Jemma had already tried to find that out, only to be shot down by Coulson repeatedly. 

“No clue, but apparently long enough that I need everything out of my bunk and then some.” Skye nodded to the bags piled up to the side and tried to give them a smile. Her eyes caught on the case in Jemma’s hands. “What do you have there? Parting gift for the soon to be exiled? Does it come with internet access?” 

Jemma winced at Skye’s use of the word ‘exiled’, but opened the case up to show Skye the contents without further preamble. “We’ve made you some gloves,” she said. “They’ve been designed to dampen your new abilities until you learn to better control them.”

Skye picked one of the gloves up out of the case, running her hand over it. “It’s made out of special advanced compression fiber material that Fitz and I designed,” Jemma added, shooting a small smile at Fitz, ”and they might be a bit tight until you adjust to wearing them. But they shouldn’t be uncomfortable. You’ll keep us updated if they give you any trouble or don’t seem to work correctly, yeah? Coulson said wherever it is you’re going will still have a video link here to the Playground.”

“Yeah, sure,” Skye said, pulling the glove on. “Ooh, yeah, a bit tight.” She stretched the material up over her forearm. “But not too bad.” 

Jemma smiled encouragingly as Skye picked up the second glove and started to pull it on, too. 

“Y’ don’t have t’ wear them all day,” Fitz added, seeing how difficult it was for Skye to get them on, “but y’ should at least wear them at night. Just t’ be safe. And then durin’ the day, when y’ want them. May I?” 

He reached out when Skye nodded, gently adjusting the gauntlets for the seams lay properly. He gave them a once over, smiled, and nodded. They fit well, almost better than he’d expected, and Fitz felt himself puff a bit in pride at a job well done. It had felt good, working like that with Jemma again, even more so because of who they were working to help. 

“Perfect fit,” Skye murmured, flexing her hands as if to test the give of the material. Satisfied, she peeled them off once more and put them back in their case. “But I think I’m gonna stick to night time, like you suggested.”

The three lapsed into silence for a moment, each clearly uncertain about what to say, when Fitz blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

“It isn’t fair you’re being sent away. It’s not your fault, and you’re not dangerous.”

“Thanks, Fitz, but it’s for the best. Dr. Garner… He pointed out a few things. He’s probably right that I need time to work on them. And with Coulson going all overprotective and sending me away, well, maybe that’s what I’ll do.”

That still didn’t sit right with Fitz, but he left it for the time being to focus on the other salient detail in what Skye had just said. 

“Dr. Garner? The man May’s talkin’ t’?”

“Yeah.” Skye nodded. “Did you see him out there with her?” When Jemma nodded in reply, an impish smile came over Skye’s face, and she leaned forward as if to tell them a secret. “Guess what?” she said quietly. “I heard that Dr. Garner is May’s _ex._ ”

Jemma’s mouth dropped open. “What?” she cried, as Fitz let out a similar noise of disbelief.

“Yeah!” Skye looked way too happy to be divulging that kind of personal information on their friend. “They used to be _married_. Can you imagine that, May being married?”

“My goodness,” Jemma said, bewildered. The knowledge that their taciturn teammate had once been in such a close personal relationship with someone did seem to kind of go against what they knew of her. “Well, I suppose that would explain the smiles and the laughter, if they’re on good terms with each other, which they do seem to be,” she said looking at Fitz, then back to Skye. “Did she refer him to you?”

“Yup,” Skye said. “She said he was the best psych in the business, no one better. And he called her _Melinda._ It was so weird.”

“Whoa.” Fitz breathed out the exclamation and turned to look at the doors, as though he could see out into the hallway where May and her ex-husband were talking. The idea that she’d been an active S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and married were difficult for Fitz to process. He’d always assumed that you could have one or the other since not many of the other specialists he’d come into contact with were married. He couldn’t help but mull over possibilities for the future, even if that future was a bit off. He filed it away as something to explore later and turned back to Skye. 

“What’s he like?” The question popped out of his mouth before Fitz could stop himself, his natural curiosity taking a turn toward gossipy at the prospect of finding out more about May. 

“Nothing like May at all,” Skye answered with a small chuckle. “He actually speaks, for starters. Good sense of humor, although he can be stern.” She frowned a bit at that, and Fitz wondered what she was remembering. “I guess they have that in common, but other than that, they seem like total opposites.”

“Huh.” Fitz glanced at Jemma and rubbed at his chin, filing that information away for later. He couldn’t wait to get his girlfriend’s take on it. Maybe over afternoon tea. 

“I just can’t imagine her being married at all, but maybe it really is a case of opposites attracting,” Jemma mused, crossing her arms. “Maybe he brings out a different side of her that we just haven’t seen.”

Any further gossip on the subject of May and Dr. Garner was cut off by the arrival of Trip, who approached them rubbing his hands together. “Are you ready to leave?” he asked Skye. “I see the crew’s got the quinjet loaded and prepped to go.”

“Pretty much,” Skye replied. “I’ve just got the rest of my things here.” She indicated the bags right behind her. “That’s it.”

Trip nodded. “I’ll help you get those stowed onboard.”

Fitz and Jemma helped the two of them get the rest of Skye’s things on the quinjet, including her new gloves, and then they said their goodbyes, each of them giving Skye a firm hug and making her promise to keep them updated on her progress from wherever it was Coulson was sending her.Then they stepped back and stood together to watch as the quinjet took off and flew away into the sky.

Jemma watched it go with a small frown on her face. “Skye will be okay, right?” she said, looking up at Fitz. “I just hate the idea of Coulson sending her off by herself without anyone there to monitor her or provide care if she needs it. It just sounds too risky.”

Fitz wrapped his hands around Jemma’s shoulders, turning her to face him squarely. He gently brushed a stray bit of hair back behind her ear and smiled down at her. 

“Skye is goin’ t’ be fine. Promise. There is no way in the world Coulson would let her go somewhere where we couldn’t reach her if need be. He’d never put us in harm’s way, well, unless a mission called for it. It’s goin’ t’ be okay.”

They turned and walked back toward the main part of the base, taking their time. With Skye mostly puzzled out, all that was left to do was routine paperwork, something Fitz was none too eager to get back to. Paperwork days were a drag - even if they were necessary - and he found himself looking for excuses not to focus. Unfortunately, his usual partner in crime in that regard was nowhere to be found. 

“Honestly, I’m a bit more curious about where Hunter’s been lately. And Mack. I haven’t seen either o’ them, and every time I try to catch Bobbi to ask, she disappears. Have y’ heard any mission chatter or anythin’?”

“No, I haven’t,” Jemma said as they walked. “I’d think if there was anything long-term going on, like when I went undercover, that we would have heard about it somehow. Unless it _was_ like my mission, and they had to go dark, but....I just can’t think of any reason why they would need to.” She chewed her lip thoughtfully. “And you know, for all that Hunter always complains about not wanting to tie himself down, and liking being a freelancer, I really thought he was starting to settle in nicely here. I don’t want to think about the possibility of him going AWOL.”

They turned into the lab, and before Jemma could split off from Fitz to go to her workstation, she stopped with a frown. “And I haven’t spoken much with Bobbi either lately, which is strange.” She’d become firm friends with the other agent, finding her a good person to confide in and seek advice from, but she’d been oddly cagey lately, and remote. Jemma found it all a bit perplexing.

“Eh, we’ll see then, I guess,” Fitz answered with a shrug before wandering toward his station. “Maybe they just needed t’ do somethin’ off base and no one mentioned it. They’ll turn up soon enough.”


	16. Chapter 16

Little did Fitz know how true that statement would be. Mack came back although Hunter was still AWOL, the story being that he’d gotten freaked out by the prospect of commitment. Whether that was a commitment to Bobbi or to S.H.I.E.L.D. Mack never clarified and Fitz didn’t feel like pushing it. Everything went back to normal after that, albeit a little more subdued and without someone to watch football with, but it was okay. 

Until the lights went out and everything went to hell. 

That was the day they found out that both Bobbi and Mack were sleeper agents, leaving Fitz to wonder just how often they would be betrayed by someone they thought were their friends. Mack had programmed the model of Lola he’d created to find Fury’s toolbox, meaning whoever was after them had all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s secrets at their disposal. Or they would, once they could figure out how to open it. 

Coulson began barking out orders and Fitz volunteered to enact a manual lockdown in the hope of keeping them from escaping the Playground entirely. He only paused long enough to fire off a quick text to Jemma, letting her know why the power had gone out suddenly and not to trust Bobbi and Mack if she came across either of them. He wished there was more he could do, but had to satisfy himself with that. 

Fitz worked as quickly as he could with a shaking hand, cursing the fact that his nerves made the damn condition worse. The shaking wasn’t as bad as it had been, though, not even during the mission in Hawaii a few short weeks ago. He couldn’t get the mainframe to behave, no matter what he did, and when he went rooting around for answers, he found something plugged in. Fitz was set to pull it out and get back to work when a voice interrupted him. 

“Fitz, don’t.” 

He whirled to find the larger man in the doorway and stood his ground as he took a few cautious steps toward him. He just wished he wasn’t shaking so badly. Mack’s voice was calm, almost soothing, as he told Fitz he wouldn’t hurt him, but Fitz wouldn’t believe it. He’d lived this part of the story before, too. Before either of them could say anything more, something began to creep through the vents, its purplish hue far too familiar. Dendrotoxin. 

Fitz snatched up a flashlight, brandishing it like a weapon as Mack pleaded with him to get away from the wall. There was no way in hell he’d do what Mack told him, and Fitz crouched a bit, waiting to find the right time to strike, if there ever was one. It never came. Instead there was only the tell-tale sound of heavy machinery powering up and Mack calling his name as he tackled him to the floor. Fitz was dimly aware of rubble around him and far-away voices, but soon found that everything had gone black.

Jemma, meanwhile, had gotten Fitz’s text and had concocted a rather slapdash, though clever, plan, if she thought so herself, with the limited time and resources she had. She hurried to the locker room with a large plastic bin full of random parts from Fitz’s stores, and started digging through her locker. She had just loaded an ICER and stuck it in the back waistband of her jeans when she turned around and saw Bobbi behind her, startling her. Jemma played her part as best as she could despite her fear and nerves, pretending she was glad to see Bobbi, and delaying her by acting like she couldn’t find something in her bin of parts, all the while prattling on about EMPs.

She passed off a tiny little device to Bobbi as she went, sensing that Bobbi was getting anxious, ready to move on. She knew she was pressing her luck when Bobbi said that perhaps they should go find Fitz to see if he was okay. Jemma’s heart jumped--he was off on his own, and she was genuinely concerned--but she popped up with the second half of the device she’d found dropping it in Bobbi’s outstretched palm.

The two pieces connected and immediately activated, sending out a stun pulse that knocked Bobbi out, sending her crumpling to the floor. Jemma took out her ICER and aimed it at her just for good measure, picking up a radio that had been lying on standby, alerting Coulson and May that she had Bobbi under control.

Coulson came to the locker room as quickly as he could and helped her get an unconscious Bobbi transported to the kitchen and handcuffed to one of the metal stair rails there. He pulled a tiny black box from her pocket. Confused. Jemma asked what it was.

“A gift from Fury,” Coulson said vaguely. “A means to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“What do you plan to do with her, sir?” she asked, looking down at Bobbi.

Coulson frowned. “It might depend on what she was planning to do with us. Hopefully May will have some answers soon.”

Just then, they heard a strange hissing noise. Looking up and around for the source, they saw a strange blue gas coming from one of the overhead air vents. Jemma gasped. It was dendrotoxin. 

“Sir, get back--” she cried, reaching out for him, but it was no use. It was spreading too quickly, and they had no defenses against it. Jemma felt her muscles go lax as she inhaled the gas; then everything went black.

When Fitz finally came to, he found that he was lying on a bunk in the quarantine unit. He nearly shot off the narrow mattress when he remembered everything that had happened, his need to find Jemma and make sure she was okay overriding everything else. He steadied himself on the bed’s railing and looked around, relieved to see Jemma lying on another bed next to him, seemingly near consciousness. 

“Jemma?” Fitz called, hoping to speed things along. “Jemma, are y’ all right?”

He looked around as he spoke, looking for any possible sign of danger. Oddly enough, there was none. While Fitz didn’t recognize the agents walking around them, they wore standard S.H.I.E.L.D. gear and didn’t seem at all concerned that he was awake. And unrestrained. Could they possibly be okay with him just waking up and walking out? The thought was a tempting one, but Fitz wouldn’t leave without Jemma. Once they were both awake, they’d see what they could do. 

Jemma mumbled indistinctly, stirring a bit on the bed, then opened her eyes and squinted up into the fluorescent lights above them. “Fitz?” she said groggily, looking around her. “What…?”

Then she, too, remembered what had happened, and she struggled to sit up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Fitz,” she said again, reaching out for him and swaying a little unsteadily. “What’s going on? What happened? I was--I was with Coulson, in the kitchen, when dendrotoxin started coming through the vents…:” She looked out into the lab, at all of the agents busily walking around, and realized she didn’t recognize any of them. “Who are those people?”

Fitz rushed to steady her as Jemma sat at the edge of the bed, refusing to let her go until he was certain she wouldn’t keel over on him. Satisfied she wouldn’t spill onto the linoleum, he took a half step back and looked around. No one had raised any kind of alarm yet, even though they could plainly see they were awake and the door to the containment pod was open. 

“No bloody clue,” he whispered, not wanting anyone to overhear them. “But they don’t seem too bothered by us bein’ awake.” Fitz licked his lips and took Jemma’s hand, tugging lightly to encourage her off the cot. “Let’s see what happens when we try t’ make a break for it. C’mon, follow me.”

They had barely set foot outside the pod when a petite woman, who looked no less lethal for her height, came to a stop in front of them. “Agents Fitz, Simmons. Good to see you’re awake. The Board of Directors asks that you wait here until they call for you.” She smiled at them, but it never reached her eyes, leaving Fitz with no doubt that she was capable of keeping them in check if ordered to do so. He nodded, not wanting to cause trouble, and waited for the woman to walk away before turning to Jemma. 

“What the hell do we do now?”

Jemma frowned, sidling a little closer to Fitz and squeezing his hand tightly in hers. “I don’t know,” she murmured, her eyes still scanning over the busy lab in front of them. But it seemed like they had nothing to do but sit and wait. 

She watched as the unfamiliar agents picked through their lab. And that’s what they were doing--going through it, taking inventory, making notes of everything they had and what they’d been working on. It chilled Jemma to the bone and deeply unsettled her. It was like they were being investigated almost, as if their lab was a crime scene. “I don’t like this,” she said, leaning into Fitz’s shoulder, keeping her voice down so none of the others could hear her. “What are they looking for? And what did that woman mean, ‘Board of Directors’? We don’t _have_ a Board of Directors.”

Like she had been summoned, the woman from before reappeared, with the same vaguely threatening smile on her face. “If you’ll follow me,” she said, “the Board of Directors are ready for you now.” She turned to leave the lab, indicating that they should follow her.

Jemma gave Fitz a loaded look as she let go of his hand to do as she was told, apprehension swirling in her gut. Everything just felt wrong, and she had no idea what was waiting for her and Fitz with this mysterious, unknown Board of Directors.

Fitz trailed after Jemma, dread sinking deeply into his bones. The worst part was that he felt powerless, unable to do anything to anticipate what they might be facing. There was no way to protect Jemma, or himself, if need be. Hopefully the fact that they’d been left alone so far meant he was worrying needlessly, but he couldn’t help it all the same. 

They were brought to the conference room and he felt his jaw drop at who he saw sitting at the end of the table. He didn’t recognize the other four agents sitting at the other end, but he did know Agent Anne Weaver. Fitz felt conflicted, uneasy at seeing the Director of the SciTech Academy but relieved to see someone they knew. Better the devil he knew, after all. 

He nodded at Agent Weaver and came to a stop next to Jemma, waiting expectantly for the older agents to speak.

One of them nodded congenially at them. “Agents Fitz, Simmons, it’s good to have you. Please, have a seat.” He gestured at the empty seats across the table from them.

But Jemma hesitated, still feeling distinctly uneasy, and when she glanced aside at Fitz, she saw that he was already looking at her. That look was all she needed. There would be no sitting. Facing forward again, they fixed the agents in front of them with a silent stare.

The man who’d spoken seemed unperturbed by their rudeness. After a moment, he continued on. “My name is Robert Gonzales,” he said. “I’m an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. Here with me are Agents Calderon and Oliver, and I believe you already know Agent Weaver.” 

Weaver smiled slightly and nodded at them. Jemma looked at her briefly, still unsure what was happening, before looking back to Gonzales.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on,” he said, “and we’ll get to all of that. But first, you need to know that the S.H.I.E.L.D. you’re working for is not the real S.H.I.E.L.D.”

That was enough to put Jemma off. “What?” she and Fitz both exclaimed in unison.

“Agent Coulson has gone rogue,” Gonzales said. “The operation he runs here has fallen far from the ideals S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded upon. You’re little more than a band of vigilantes now.”

Jemma scoffed as a wave of anger rolled through her. “That’s rubbish! Director Fury himself picked Coulson to succeed him! Where are you even getting this from?”

Gonzales shook his head. “We’ve been receiving intel on what he’s been doing for months. There’s no oversight here. He acts without any counterbalance, without any checks, and puts lives at risk every day. He even put your life at risk, Agent Simmons. He sent you on a very dangerous and risky undercover assignment, knowing you were untrained in espionage and unproven alone in the field. Then he gambled with your life by calling a bluff. If it weren’t for Agent Morse, you would have died in Hydra custody.”

Jemma felt her face flush. “I performed my duties admirably,” she said tightly, closing her hands into fists at her sides.

Fitz stepped forward, putting himself slightly in front of Jemma. He hadn’t liked what Gonzales said one bit, not for the reminder of what had nearly happened to her or the implication that she was somehow lacking in her ability to do her job. He was mad, for Jemma’s sake and the entire situation, and he was more than willing to say something about it. 

“It’s only thanks t’ what Jemma was able t’ get onto a hard drive that we made as much progress against Hydra as we did! And for that matter,” Fitz took a breath before plowing on, “where the hell were y’ when we were busy doin’ that? I didn’t see a single one of y’ when we finished Whitehall!”

“And you were nowhere near the Academy when they opened fire on SciTech cadets.”

Agent Weaver’s voice cut through the room, silencing Fitz instantly. She fixed him with an icy stare, daring him to say anything else, before filling in more horrific details from that day. 

“Coulson didn’t come to save us when I had hundreds of scared, wounded and dying cadets who were being cornered by some genetically _enhanced_ thing. It was Calderon who thought to check on us. So don’t talk to me about where we should have been, Leopold Fitz.”

Fitz swallowed heavily and openly glared at Weaver. Like Jemma, his hands were balled into fists at his sides as he fought to keep control of himself. It took several tense moments of them staring each other down for Gonzales to speak up again. 

“Things are...understandably tense. The day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell was horrific for all of us. I think we should all keep that in mind.” His tone was kind but his eyes held no room for argument, and Fitz gave a terse nod. He’d be civil, but he didn’t have to like it. 

“We know that everything you’ve done these past months, you did thinking you were working for S.H.I.E.L.D. You had the best of intentions. Make good on those intentions now and come home to the real S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Jemma couldn’t stop the derisive scoff that tumbled from her mouth, though she quickly shut it to keep from saying anything else. The _real_ S.H.I.E.L.D. Where did this man get off, implying that everything they’d done since Hydra was anything less, held no meaning because they felt a different way about it? It made her sick to her stomach. Beside her, Fitz remained stonily silent.

After a moment, Gonzales added, “The both of you come highly recommended by Agent Weaver. She said you’re the two brightest minds SciTech has ever produced. We could use your expertise, and we’d be honored to have you with us.”

It was all Jemma could do not to huff in outrage. “I think,” she said after a long pause, trying her best to keep her tone measured, “that Fitz and I need to discuss this privately.”

“Actually, Agent Simmons, we need your help,” Weaver said. “We’ve received word that Agent Mackenzie is stabilized, but I’d like for you to take a look over him just to make sure that nothing else was missed. I trust your opinion completely on this.”

Jemma’s breath caught. Were they trying to separate her and Fitz, get them each on their own for some reason? She looked to him, seeking reassurance; when he gave her a small nod, she nodded in return, but her eyes told him that she would seek him out in their bunk once she was through, come hell or high water. She turned back to Weaver. “Of course,” she said. “I’ll take a look at him.”

Weaver nodded and stood, walking to the door and motioning for her to follow. “Come with me, Agent Simmons.”

Fitz watched her go, wanting desperately to give her a kiss or a hug, anything to reassure them both but hesitant to do so in front of these people. He didn’t want to give any of these people any ammunition to use against them. He hated that she was out of his sight and resolved himself to get out of this room as quickly as possible so he could find Jemma once more. 

“She’s important to you.”

His head whipped around to look at Gonzales, jaw tensed as he waited to see if the other man would make anything of it. It really wasn’t his business, if he was so convinced Coulson’s team wasn’t part of S.H.I.E.L.D. it shouldn’t matter what was between him and Jemma. End of story. Fitz just kept staring at the older man until it was plain he wasn’t going to answer. 

“We don’t care what you two are, so long as the work is good,” Gonzales told him, sounding for all the world as though this were a casual conversation and he hadn’t orchestrated a takeover of the Playground. “And from what I’ve seen, your work has always been exemplary. That Mouse Hole? Neat gadget. I’d make sure you have the resources to keep building things like that, things that can help save lives. You, and Jemma of course, could run the Science Division together. Safe, out of harm’s way.”

There was something nice about what Gonzales was offering, a chance for a life with Jemma where he wouldn’t have to wonder day in and day out whether or not she was at risk of being killed. But even with his gentle, even tone, it was too similar to the offer Garrett had made him last year. Coulson had his faults, but Fitz was confident that he and Jemma were doing good work right where they were, with the people who had been beside them since they first set foot in the field. That was all he needed, not a title or new lab. 

“Like Agent Simmons said,” Fitz countered, mouth barely moving enough to let the words escape, “that is something we need to discuss. In private.”

“I understand. Take all the time you need. You have free run of the base for now, but understand you will not be permitted to return to work until you’ve decided to work with us.”

Gonzales seemed disappointed by Fitz’ reluctance to accept the offer, but wasn’t showing any sign of refusing to let him leave. With a final curt nod, the engineer left the conference room and made a beeline for their bunk. He doubted Jemma would be done checking on Mack just yet, but at least he would be there, waiting for her once that was over. 

Agent Weaver didn’t speak to Jemma again until they were almost all the way back to the lab. She took her aside in the corridor, just outside the doorway.

“Jemma,” she said, and Jemma didn’t miss how the older woman had changed to the use of her first name to be more familiar. “I know that you and Fitz are close, and that you always have been. You’ve always been reasonable, and I trust you to make the right decision regarding all of this, Jemma, but if he’s resistant...you might need to consider setting aside your personal life for the greater good. You have a duty to S.H.I.E.L.D. Don’t forget that.” Briefly laying a hand on her arm. Weaver continued on down the hall, leaving Jemma alone, her thoughts in turmoil.

Weaver was asking her to leave Fitz behind to join her real S.H.I.E.L.D. She couldn’t believe it. They _were_ trying to separate them. Feeling numb, Jemma turned to go into the lab to see to Mack.

He was in good shape, just a little banged up. Jemma kept her exam clinical, refraining from looking him in the eye, unsure how she felt about him, knowing that he’d betrayed the team. She knew Mack was looking at her, trying to get her attention, but she refused to acknowledge him beyond what was needed to attend to him. She just couldn’t handle it in the moment, knowing what he’d done and especially that he’d hurt Fitz through his betrayal. She knew how much Fitz had appreciated his friendship through his recovery.

As soon as she was able, she finished up with Mack’s exam and escaped back to her bunk, shutting the door behind her and leaning back against it with a sigh. She’d felt like she was under scrutiny the entire time she’d been in the lab and out in the corridors, and it was a relief to finally be somewhere where it didn’t feel like she was under watch.

Fitz was sitting on the bed, and she smiled wanly at him. “Thank god you’re already here,” she said, crossing the room and holding out her arms to him.

He'd been stretched out on his side of the bed, reclined against the headboard as he flipped through journal articles on his tablet, waiting for Jemma to return. Fitz wasn't really reading, though, and tossed the tablet to her as soon as the door opened and readily pulled her down to the mattress with him, scooting toward the middle to give her room. With everything going on, he needed the reassurance of having Jemma close, and wrapped his arms around her as soon as she settled in against his side. 

“Are you okay?” Fitz asked, lips pressed against her hair. He wanted to tell Jemma about his talk with Gonzales, but it could wait until he was reassured that Jemma herself was feeling all right.

Jemma immediately burrowed into Fitz’s side, taking comfort from the feeling of his arms snug around her and his face in her hair. “We can talk here, can’t we?” she asked, her voice muffled against his shirt. “We’re safe here. No one’s watching.”

Then she sighed and snugged her arm tighter around his waist. “I think they might be trying to split us up,” she said, unease clear in her voice. “That Gonzales fellow had a nice line about recruiting us together, but when Agent Weaver got me alone...she practically told me to leave you.” She shivered, feeling another rush of anger at the memory of the conversation. “She said I had to remember I have a duty to S.H.I.E.L.D. and that if you were resistant to the idea of switching over, that….that I might need to leave you behind.”

Fitz nodded to tell Jemma they were safe even as he huffed out a humorless laugh. He wished he could say he was surprised, but given his history with Anne Weaver, he wasn’t. 

“Weaver’s never really liked me, Jemma, we both know that.” He gave her a little extra squeeze and did his best to settle in against the pillows. Despite knowing that their room wasn’t bugged - he’d checked while waiting for Jemma to return - it was difficult to relax, knowing that there were people in the base who had plotted against them. “For whatever reason, she always thought I was holdin’ y’ back. That we were too close t’ be effective.

“Good news is, I think that means there’s dissension in the ranks, or at least the potential for it. Gonzales pitched the idea o’ us workin’ together for him. Even went so far t’ say we could be co-Heads o’ his Science Division.”

“Really?” Jemma craned her head back to look at Fitz. “But that doesn’t make much sense. I wonder why Weaver would try to get me to consider leaving you if Gonzales wants to keep us together. If anything, she should have known that just suggesting I leave you would make me even _less_ likely to consider joining their little gang. Unless…” She frowned as a disturbing thought occurred to her. “Unless she thinks I’m still the same person I was when I was twenty. And that I would choose duty over you again.”

Fitz could feel the tension in Jemma as she gave voice to her thought and automatically reached to soothe her, brushing a hand over her hair and settling her back against his chest. His heart ached for Jemma a bit, hating the way her view of her former mentor was changing. Just because he had a somewhat strained relationship with the older woman didn’t mean he wanted Jemma to feel the same way. 

“That’s her mistake t’ make, Jemma. I know you wouldn’t put duty over us again. Neither o’ us would.” They’d been through far too much together - both personally and professionally - to ever make that mistake again. They fell silent for a few moments, Fitz combing his fingers through Jemma’s hair absentmindedly when he hit on an idea. 

“Maybe we can turn that t’ our advantage.” He felt Jemma shift against his chest, looking up at him as he spoke. “Weaver thinks we can be split up. Gonzales wants both o’ us, but would likely settle for at least one, right? Maybe if we let them think we’re not gettin’ along, we can get more information out o’ them. See what they’re plannin’ t’ do next.”

“You mean...pretend to have a fight?” She could see the logic in his plan, but her heart balked at the idea. Even if it would just be for show, the idea of having to fake an argument with Fitz left little to be desired. Still, they were not in a good situation, and didn’t have a lot of options. “I can’t say I like the idea, but I’m also not sure we have very many choices,” she said, tightening her hold on him. “I suppose it wouldn’t be hard to do either. Just...we would play into what Weaver thinks I’ll do. I’ll...come around to the idea of being in their real S.H.I.E.L.D., while you hold out and stay loyal to Coulson. And we’ll see what we can find out.” She sighed heavily. “I just hope I can hold up the pretense.”

“Hey, y’ managed t’ lie all those months at Hydra, right? I have faith that y’ can now.” Fitz wasn't any more thrilled with the idea of faking a fight, but if it was their best option to figure out what the hell was going on, so be it. “I don’t like it either, but it may be for the best. If we’re lucky, it won’t even come down t’ that. Coulson will come up with some kind of brilliant plan and save the day without us havin’ t’ do anythin’ at all.”

Jemma breathed out a small laugh. “I hope you’re right.”


	17. Chapter 17

He wasn’t right.

A short time later, there was a sharp, heavy knock on their door, startling them out of their contented rest. It was an agent in heavy tac gear, ordering them to come to the lab immediately. When they got there, they found an agitated Agent Weaver waiting on them. They learned that May had come out from hiding and shot Gonzales with an ICER before sending Coulson packing. He was now on the run, and they--Fitz and Jemma--were under strict orders to find a way to open Fury’s Toolbox, no questions asked. 

Jemma exchanged a look with Fitz. It looked like they might have to put their plan into play, after all.

Because there was no way they were going to open the Toolbox and give Gonzales what he wanted--access to all of Fury’s secrets, everything that Coulson needed to run S.H.I.E.L.D.--but they also needed to find a way to get the Toolbox back to Coulson, who was now on the run from Gonzales’ men. But even despite the actual difficulties getting past the Toolbox’s defenses and protocols presented, Jemma knew they could only stall for so long. Something had to be done.

Fitz didn’t even have to pretend to be grumpy when he stalked over to his own workbench. He’d always had a problem with following orders blindly, at least when it came to certain people. Weaver was one of them, and being told by her that he was required to betray Coulson only made him more irritable. On a normal day he would have tried to snap out of it, not wanting to upset Jemma, but today he leaned in. It would help sell their story, if nothing else. 

So he huffed through the tests he and Jemma ran together, purposefully giving her short answers and scowling every chance he got. The trickiest thing was knowing that they had to put in at least some effort to opening Fury’s Toolbox. Weaver was familiar with their work and would have known in a heartbeat if they had just been twiddling their proverbial thumbs. Thankfully it would only sell the story more if Fitz allowed Jemma to do most of the work while he dragged his feet, so he did just that while they were in the lab until they could go hide in their bunks. 

He didn’t sleep well that night, even though he apologized to Jemma for his surly behavior. She told him not to worry about it, that it was all just part of the plan, but he was still uneasy. Being on the outs with Jemma, even knowing it was all an act, didn’t sit well with Fitz, and to make it worse he still wasn’t sure how they’d put the rest of their plan into action. He struggled with that all night and into working the next day, meaning his grouchiness wasn’t much of an act. 

He found his opening the next morning when Gonzales, accompanied by Bobbi, came by to try to persuade them over to his side once more. He tried to flatter them, but they deflected his praise to ask what would happen if they elected to leave. Jemma even got in a particularly good shot about what had happened to May, but all Gonzales said was that exit protocols were the same. Once they were debriefed, they’d be free to go. 

“All right. I’ll start packin’ my things.” Fitz looked the other two agents in the eye, daring them to say anything. When they didn’t, he looked expectantly at Jemma, hoping she’d see the same opportunity for a public argument that he did. “Are y’ comin’, Jemma?” 

She did. And even though it was the perfect opportunity for them--it played right into the plan they’d concocted--it didn’t make things any easier. It meant that this time, it was Fitz who would be leaving, headed for parts unknown for an undetermined length of time, and she didn’t know when she would see him again. So it didn’t require much acting on her part when she hesitated, biting her lip, unable to meet his eyes. “I...um...no,” she said, her voice wavering. “I--I can’t leave.” 

“What?” Fitz narrowed his eyes and frowned at her, hoping his expression was sufficiently stern. “Jemma, y’ can’t possibly want t’ stay here, with _them_ , after all they’ve done.” He stepped nearer, as though he wanted to block their argument from Bobbi and Gonzales and took her hand in his. “Jemma, they locked up May. They want t’ hunt down Skye. Our friends. We can’t do that. We can’t help them. Please…” Fitz was surprised to find his eyes actually misting up a bit as he looked at Jemma and had to swallow before he could continue. “We’ve talked about leavin’, Jemma. I think, well, I think it’s time. Just leave with me. Please. We can go find that flat we’ve always talked about.”

Jemma still couldn’t look at him. She knew that if she did, and saw his pleading eyes, possibly teary to go along with the slight wobble in his voice, she would lose it too. Because he had to mention the flat, didn’t he? The one that they’d spent an evening talking and dreaming about, making plans for, one day far off in the future, or so they thought. The one she still thought about when things got bad. Maybe, she thought, once this was all over, they might need to actually seriously discuss it as something they needed to do _now_.

She squeezed her hand in his, trying to give him the comfort she couldn’t outwardly show. “I know,” she said. “I know. But...we made a commitment, Fitz. To S.H.I.E.L.D. And this is the only way I know that I can still protect Skye. It won’t be so bad, will it?” She finally got the courage to look him in the eye, and it hurt just as much as she feared it would. Fitz had always worn his heart on his sleeve, and it was to his advantage here. She swallowed, trying to inject some conviction into her voice. “Please, Fitz, reconsider. Maybe we can still do some good here.” 

“Y’ know I can’t, Jemma,” he whispered, shaking his head a bit, “and y’ know why.” Fitz took a step back from her and spun on his heel to leave the lab without bothering to acknowledge Bobbi or Gonzales. He could feel their eyes on him, though, and felt a grim satisfaction at knowing they’d been watching them the entire time. 

He packed his things from their room first, trying to will himself to hold it together as he did so. It felt so much like it had years ago, when Jemma had told him she wanted to break up for the sake of their careers and he’d been left to throw what he could of their lives into a duffle bag and move on. Even knowing it was a ruse didn’t ease the sting of those memories and Fitz kept it mostly to the basics - his clothing and a few personal touches to sell the story - before moving on to the Bus. 

When they’d still been bouncing between acting as a field unit and the Playground, he hadn’t seen the necessity of clearing all the personal effects from his former bunk. It had given the cramped room a homey touch when he still had to use it from time to time, and he wanted to take those momentos with him now. He gathered his statuette of the Three Wise Monkeys that Jemma had given him for his birthday and the selfie pinned to his wall and went to put them away. 

Mack found him there, looking for all the world like he’d kicked his dog, and Fitz braced himself to go a few more rounds about why he was leaving. At least this time his anger was genuine. Mack had betrayed them and nothing would change that in Fitz’ mind, even the fact that he’d saved him from being plowed over by real S.H.I.E.L.D. on their way in. But his anger gave way to shock when he heard Mack tell him that Jemma had found a way to get into the toolbox using genetic markers. There was no way she should have been able to do that without Coulson there, and he used the Bus’ command center to tap into the lab’s computer system. 

It took him a moment to realize what was going on, why Jemma was scanning every inch of the toolbox when it wouldn’t yield any viable result, when it hit him dead between the eyes. Clever girl, his Jemma. Luckily Mack was standing behind him and Fitz didn’t have to worry about whether he struggled to hide his grin. He took a moment to school his features before he roughly pushed past Mack, snatched his duffle bag off the table, and stormed over to the lab.

When Fitz left the lab, Jemma could feel Gonzales and Bobbi watching her as she struggled to maintain her composure. Fortunately, she didn’t have to fake being upset in the aftermath of what looked to be the beginnings of a breakup. There was a lump lodged in her throat, and the air in the room felt overly warm.

Bobbi came up next to her, laying a careful hand on her arm. “Jemma, I’m sorry,” she said quietly, sympathetically.

Jemma sniffed and took a deep breath before shrugging Bobbi off. She didn’t want to hear it. “I need to get to work,” she said firmly, heading for the holotable, looking every inch the despairing lover trying to distract herself with work.

That, at least, wasn’t a lie. Because now that Fitz was definitely leaving, she saw a way to get the Toolbox back to Coulson. She knew if Fitz could open the Toolbox, he could find a way to get in touch with Coulson and make contact with him, and deliver it to him. The question was, how could he open it, and more importantly, how would he be able to smuggle it out without Gonzales realizing what he had done? She spent some time running basic scans of the outside of the Toolbox before she hit upon answers to both questions at once. 

The Toolbox likely only responded to something deeper than a fingerprint activation--something like a genetic marker. She was confident Fitz would be able to replicate that in the field given time, however crudely. The answer of how to smuggle it out was so simple she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it sooner. She could simply create an advanced 3D print of the Toolbox and switch it out for the real one while no one was looking. The deception wouldn’t last for long, but by the time they realized it, Fitz and the real Toolbox would be long gone. She would handle whatever repercussions came after that.

She got started immediately, and as soon as the print was done, she made the switch. Fortunately, her earlier acting had been enough to convince Gonzales and Weaver that she was mostly with them, and they’d lowered their watchfulness of her. That didn’t keep her heart from racing, though, or fearing that she would be caught. The real Toolbox safely in her pocket and the fake one in place being scanned, she quickly went to the kitchen.

There, she made Fitz his favorite sandwich. If she couldn’t go with him, she could at least send a token of her love and affection with him, and take care of him a little in the process--who knew when he would get the chance to eat again?

Then she went to their bunk. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that his backpack was sitting on the bed, packed and ready to go, though she knew a moment of bitter disappointment when she saw that he wasn’t in the room. This would have been her last chance to see him alone before he left, and she’d hoped for the opportunity to hold and kiss him one last time. She sighed. The sandwich and the note she’d packed with it would have to do. She tucked both it and the Toolbox into his backpack before heading back to the lab. She would have lingered, hoping to catch him when he came back for his backpack, but her absence from the lab would have been noticed had she stayed away any longer.

Back in the lab, she went to work pretending to puzzle over the Toolbox and how to apply the knowledge she’d gained on genetic markers on how to open it, until the sound of approaching footsteps and Fitz’s angry voice made her gasp and look back up. 

“I saw everythin’, Jemma,” Fitz called as he crossed the threshold of the lab. “Did y’ really want me t’ find out this way?”

“Well -- Well, I was hoping you would so that we can work together on this,” Jemma stammered out, playing her part beautifully. “Do you have any idea how valuable the information inside this could be? You need to help me get it out, get things back to normal.”

“Things can never go back t’ normal,” Fitz snapped back. “You’ve destroyed a man’s life for what? Fear?” He snatched the Toolbox off the scanner and tossed it a few times, taunting Gonzales’ men. He thought he heard Jemma gasp when one of them pulled a gun on him, but all Fitz did was catch it and set it back down on the scanner. “Fear,” he repeated as he met Jemma’s eye, “and because y’ have this deluded idea that duty is more important than anythin’ else.”

It was a subtle statement, but calculated to ring true to anyone around them who knew their backstory. 

Jemma let a moment spin out between them where she stared back, seemingly marshaling her thoughts, summoning up the courage to make a hard personal call. It wasn’t entirely artifice; though she knew they were putting on a show, the reminders of their past and the mistakes she had made still had the power to hurt. 

“If we work for S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she finally said, slowly, “then we _do_ have a duty, one that we swore to uphold and protect. We have a duty to carry out our responsibilities, and…” She swallowed. This was not easy to say, especially as she kept her eyes on his. “We swore not to let our personal feelings and lives get in the way of the work. I think you’ve forgotten that.”

Hearing that felt like a punch to the gut. The way Jemma delivered it, voice steady and pitched low, had Fitz wondering for the briefest of moments whether or not she actually believed what she was saying. The fear that she might one day change her mind and end their relationship - as irrational as it was - was still powerful enough to force the air from his lungs. Fitz inhaled sharply and bit the inside of his cheek, keenly aware of all the eyes on them. 

“Well, there’s that then, yeah? No wonder y’ always got on with Bobbi - duty before anythin’ else. Even me. Even us.” Fitz shoved his hands in his pockets and gave a small shrug. “I thought this time… But no. Y’ didn’t want me then and y’ still don’t now, especially after,” Fitz lifted one hand from his pocket to gesture toward his head and slipped it back out of sight. “I’m damaged goods. It’s why y’ ran off on the Hydra assignment and why you’re goin’ along with this farce now. Y’ knew it would drive me away, Jemma. Y’ might as well have packed my bags yourself.” 

Every one of his words landed like a physical blow, and it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Much like his own fears, Jemma was suddenly terrified that he truly believed that was what she thought of him--as worthless, damaged, that she didn’t want him and never had. Every cell in her body was screaming for her to go to him and beg forgiveness, to reassure him that she loved him, but she couldn’t. Not if this had any hope of working. She just had to trust that he knew the truth. And it was his last words that helped her find her focus--because she _had_ packed his bag. She wondered if he knew.

Blinking back her tears, also aware of everyone watching, she swallowed and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Fitz. If that’s how you feel...then perhaps it’s for the best that you do leave.”

People used to joke that they could read each other’s minds. She hoped he could read the message inherent in her words now--that him leaving was their best shot of saving the Toolbox, of getting it back to Coulson.

Seeing Jemma so close to tears was nearly the final straw for Fitz. He had never been able to stand seeing her cry and it took every ounce of his willpower to stand his ground. _It’s all an act_ , he reminded himself. _She’s only doing this so we can get Coulson back._

Feeling a bit steadier for it, Fitz gave her a firm nod and looked around the room at Bobbi and the other agents watching the exchange. “All right, then.” The words came out more as croak than anything else, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “All right. No need t’ drag this out. My bags are packed. I’ll just grab them and be on my way.”

His eyes lingered on Jemma’s face perhaps a beat too long as he imagined what it would be like to be able to kiss her goodbye, to whisper against her lips that he’d miss her but planned to see her soon. All Fitz could hope for was that she could see his intention in his eyes before he turned and walked out of the lab.

Jemma visibly wilted as he left, their confrontation having taken a lot out of her. She could hear some of the agents behind her murmuring amongst themselves, no doubt far too interested in the personal aspects of what they’d just witnessed. Watching Fitz walk out of the lab and turn down the corridor, she knew they’d played their parts perfectly and that the Toolbox was almost safely away, but she didn’t want that to be her last glimpse of Fitz. 

“I--I should go see him off,” she choked out, wringing her hands. Surely Gonzales and the others wouldn’t begrudge her this, knowing their history.

“I’ll come with you,” Bobbi said, her voice soft.

That hadn’t been expected, but she supposed maybe she should have. Betrayer to them or not, Bobbi did care about Fitz, and she was probably disappointed to see him leave, as well. She followed Jemma to the hangar, where they found Mack with Fitz, who had both his duffle bag and his backpack, and was being searched with a wand for any contraband. Jemma knew a moment of satisfaction and victory that they didn’t check his bag.

She desperately wished that she could hold him one last time, that the others weren’t there so she could tell him she loved him openly, to be safe and to come home soon. But she couldn’t.

Saying goodbye was more difficult than Fitz anticipated, even to Bobbi and Mack. As upset with them as he was, it didn't completely negate what they'd gone through as a team, and he just managed to give them the slightest of nods. He couldn't even look at Jemma. If he looked at her, he'd want to touch her and things would just spiral out of control from there. Instead he just climbed into the transport that would drop him off on a nondescript corner in town so he could catch a taxi to the airport. It was likely so they could set a tail on him, too, but Fitz was prepared for that. He'd just have to pretend to be oblivious to them until he could slip away. 

He was jittery the entire ride, wanting to see what was in his pack, but he somehow managed to wait until he was in the cab before opening it. He dug through it, knowing that if Jemma had managed to slip anything into his luggage, it'd be here. Fitz found it quickly, the dull metal cool against his fingertips as he viewed the Toolbox from all sides. His Jemma really was quite clever, and he felt pride blossom in his chest at the excellent spy she made. 

But the best part was what was wrapped in brown paper and tied with perfect little bows: his sandwich. Fresh bread, tomato, fresh buffalo mozzarella, prosciutto and Jemma's homemade aioli, wrapped with a note from her. Fitz read it again and again as he munched away, his grin widening each time he read, “I love you, Jemma.”


	18. Chapter 18

Back at the Playground, Jemma was huffing at the copy of the Toolbox she’d made as Mack and Bobbi looked on. “I did everything in my power, but it wouldn’t open,” she said, annoyed. “It’s way beyond anything I’ve ever encountered. Without Coulson or some miracle, I’m afraid it’s just a worthless piece of junk.”

She saw them exchange a look, and she pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. Fitz and the real Toolbox were safely away, and her decoy was holding. It wouldn’t last, but she would keep up the ruse for as long as she could, until Coulson and Fitz could find a way to come back and set everything to rights.

Her sense of victory and smugness only lasted as long as she was out in the open, though, in the lab and in the corridors, out among the others. When she returned to her bunk at the end of the day and saw that Fitz’s pile of dirty clothes were gone, along with his shoes and a few of their mementos and knick-knacks, it really hit home that he was gone. Opening the wardrobe only revealed more missing clothes. A lump rose in her throat as tears threatened again, and Jemma sat down on the bed as she tried to regain control of her emotions. She wondered if this was what Fitz had felt like when she’d gone undercover--left behind with pieces of her gone, but just enough left over to remind and hurt. When she dressed for bed that night, instead of wearing her usual camisole, she found an old t-shirt Fitz had missed, stuffed in the back of the wardrobe. It smelled like him, and brought her some measure of comfort as she tried to sleep alone in their bed.

In the morning, she would wake up and go to battle facing these imposters alone, doing what she could to hold down the fort, as it were, until the others could return.

When he arrived at the airport, Fitz went into the terminal, doing his best to look like an unassuming traveler as he kept an eye out for his suspected tail. He ducked into a bathroom and quickly changed what clothes he could before hopping in another taxi and requesting a ride to one of the nearby hotels. He told himself it was because he wanted a chance to crack the toolbox on his own, but there was more to it than that. All Fitz really wanted was another night to be near to Jemma, figuring it was better to be nearer to her in some capacity than not at all. 

Fitz spent the majority of that night not sleeping as he tried to break into the Toolbox, to no avail. He knew Jemma believed that Coulson’s genetic markers were the key to accomplishing the task, but he couldn’t believe there wasn’t an engineering work around. There had to be, otherwise he was at an absolute loss as to what his next step should be. With the Toolbox still locked tight as the sky went from purple to gray, he opted to get a few hours of sleep before he had to be on the move again. 

He noticed two men standing outside the hotel that he recognized from the airport and felt a sense of dread. He didn’t know every one of Gonzales’ men, but he’d bet any money that they were real S.H.I.E.LD. agents. If they were following him, that meant they were on to Jemma and knew they no longer had the Toolbox. Fitz felt a stab of fear at the idea that Jemma might be in trouble, but pushed it aside. The best way to help her would be to get to Coulson. She had proven she could handle herself in tough situations; she’d survived Hydra for months. 

Fitz bounced from the train station to the bus terminal, noticing that his shadows weren’t far behind. He ducked into a small diner near the bus depot and ordered a meal before locking himself into the bathroom with all of his belongings. He’d had an idea on the ride over and he wanted to try it before Gonzales’ goons tried to grab him and bring him back to the Playground forcibly. It took several long minutes, with him having to shout back excuses to other patrons, but eventually Fitz found the right trigger point. 

Holographic images popped up all over the room and he quickly scanned them until he found what he was looking for. Pulling up the line to Coulson’s tablet, Fitz called in, grinning widely when Hunter popped up on the screen. Coulson and Hunter together was good news indeed, and he quickly explained the situation to them both. The ex-merc talked him through what he’d need to do to evade his tail and promised that they’d pick him up in San Francisco, so long as he managed to get there. 

Back at the Playground, Jemma was doing some assigned work at her terminal when she received a very welcome boon in the form of May returning. Thrilled to see a friendly face and finally have an ally, Jemma actually hugged her. May explained that Gonzales had given her command of the Playground, something that surprised her, but it was a good thing--it meant that if any of their teammates made contact, they would be able to take the call without being compromised. 

But May also had some concerning news as well. She asked Jemma about some of the projects she and Fitz had been working on before real S.H.I.E.L.D. had taken over the base, and asked her if she was aware what their true purposes were. It seemed that May was starting to buy into the party line that Coulson wasn’t being as truthful with some of his plans as he should have been, and that worried Jemma a great deal. If May of all people was starting to doubt Coulson, what did that really mean? But she agreed to help May do some research on the mysterious Theta Protocol and other projects Coulson had hidden, in order to try and find the truth and hopefully exonerate him.

But nothing they found was very reassuring. Mack said they believed he was building a base for powered people in order to exploit them. Her face grim, May ordered Jemma to open the Toolbox. Her eyes wide and her heart sinking, Jemma tried to reason, saying that Coulson could have good reason for keeping what he was doing quiet, but May was firm and her orders were clear.

Jemma went back to the lab with her thoughts racing. Her time was essentially up; she couldn’t stall much longer before they found out what she’d done. She had no idea what they would do with her then, or where they would go from there. She just hoped that Fitz had already reached Coulson and that they were formulating a plan, and fast. 

Following Hunter’s instructions, Fitz was able to rig the hand dryer to set off a series of loud bangs. It was ultimately harmless, but enough of a distraction that he was able to slip away from his tail in the confusion and got on the first bus he could. It took him a bit out of the way, but at the next major city he got off the bus and caught a train to San Francisco. He felt better switching modes of transport, but ducked into a bathroom to change from his jeans and button down into a full suit in the hope that he could blend in with the flood of office workers heading for their jobs. 

He condensed his essentials into his backpack, leaving his duffle in a locker at the station. He’d come back for it when he could, but for now all he needed was a few changes of clothes and the photo of him and Jemma. Fitz did his best to blend in and set off through the streets of San Francisco, heading toward the parking structure Hunter had indicated, but he still spotted the agents. He tried to keep a steady pace, act like he was entirely nonplussed, but when they got too close for comfort Fitz panicked and broke into a run. 

Fitz ran faster than he’d ever ran before, dodging pedestrians and cars, practically flying up the stairs of the parking garage. He was panting and pouring sweat when he got up there and ran up the open ramp of the quinjet. He bent over, hands on knees as Hunter closed the jet ramp and Mike Peterson engaged the cloaking technology. Fitz, Hunter, and Coulson watched as the agents came onto the roof and looked around in confusion before running right toward the quin. Fitz huffed out a laugh when they slammed into the invisible wall of the jet and was still shaking with suppressed laughter when Mike took off. 

His elation at being back would Coulson quickly dissipated, however, when he realized just who they were going to pick up. He never wanted to be around Ward again if he could help it, but at least he wasn’t powerless this time. Now he had field experience. He knew how to use a gun. He knew he could protect himself and Jemma, if need be. That thought firmly in mind, Fitz strapped in next to Hunter and did his best to pass the time with idle chatter. 

Jemma’s spirits kept sinking when she was informed that a state-of-the-art next-gen laser cutter was being brought in to deal with the Toolbox. That was when she knew she had to tell May the truth. She got her alone and told her everything, how she’d duplicated the Toolbox and sent Fitz off with the real one. May looked less than pleased.

“I didn’t know who else to turn to,” Jemma said, pleading with her to understand. “You’re the only one I can trust here anymore.”

May nodded. “I’ll handle it.”

Jemma went back to the lab feeling only somewhat reassured. She was sure May could come up with some sort of excuse that would buy them a little more time, but exactly how much, she wasn’t sure. When May entered the lab a little while later with Bobbi, she was quick to act like she’d been hard at work trying yet another idea on cracking the Toolbox, only for it to fail as well.

“Stop,” May said, cutting her off mid-ramble. “I told her the truth.”

An uneasy pit formed in the bottom of Jemma’s stomach. “The truth about what, exactly?”

May reached out to pick up the decoy Toolbox up off of the holotable. “Fitz replaced Fury’s Toolbox with a fake, ran off with the real one, and you’ve been covering for him since.”

Utter betrayal washed through her as Bobbi said, “Nobody’s happy about it. I understand you’re confused about who to trust and where to put your loyalties.”

Jemma swallowed. looking away from both her and May as she fought to contain the anger welling up within her. She couldn’t believe May had sold both her _and_ Fitz, and Coulson by extension, out at a time like this. “Yes. I am,” she said thinly.

“But we’ve lost Coulson, the box, and Fitz,” Bobbi continued. “Eventually I’m going to have to tell Gonzales and the rest of the Board what happened.”

“Unless we can find Coulson another way,” May added.

She knew what they were asking. May had already told her that she and Fitz had unknowingly been working on Deathlok technology under Coulson’s orders. May and Bobbi were assuming that Coulson, wherever he was now, was with Deathlok, and they wanted her to try and hack into his eyepiece feed in order to get a visual lock on where they were. When May asked if that would be a problem for her to do, Jemma sweetly said that any chance to exonerate Coulson and Fitz would not be a problem at all, and that she would get right to work. To add insult to injury, she took the decoy Toolbox and very pointedly threw it in the trash on her way out.

Thankfully Fitz hadn’t been required to help Coulson make contact with Ward. He’d been left behind on the quinjet to run the backend while the other three men had gone to the meeting. Fitz used that time to change into something more comfortable and prepare himself for coming face to face with the man who had nearly killed both him and Jemma. The man who had changed his life. That man he’d nearly murdered. 

No amount of breathing exercises could calm him, though, and he slipped a gun into the side band of his jeans. The weight alone was comforting but wasn’t enough once Ward and his new girlfriend were on board, and Fitz found himself sitting with his hand on the pommel, knee bouncing with his nerves. Coulson was speaking, trying to keep them all focused on the mission, but all Fitz could focus on was the fact that Ward was sitting feet from him. Neither had really acknowledged the other, and he wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. 

Fitz was lost in those thoughts when he felt Hunter’s hand cover his, an oddly comforting gesture from the usually abrasive Brit, and he gave the man a weak smile. He knew that Hunter was right, that he was only keying himself up by keeping his hand on the firearm, and tried to shake it off. He’d even thought he could succeed, too, until Ward’s voice broke the silence. 

“So, Fitz… How’ve you been?”

His head snapped over to Ward, and seeing him smile at him like that, as though things had never changed between them, caused all of Fitz’ rage to boil up inside his chest. He shot out of his seat toward Ward, ready to use his bare hands on the man and more than willing to take his own licks, but Hunter and Coulson caught him before he could. Coulson ordered him to take a seat, but he refused, turning his attention toward the Director instead. 

“Bakshi, sir.” Fitz looked at Coulson in disbelief and gestured at the supposedly brainwashed man. “Bakshi - no he is - he is - he’s the exact same as Ward. So he _will_ double-cross us the second that he’s with Hydra.”

“Yes he would - if he was going in alone.” 

Coulson gave him a look that asked just how stupid Fitz thought he was as Ward interjected, clearly surprised by this twist. Fitz’ concerns were brushed aside in light of the fact that Mike would be going in with Bakshi, and while Coulson seemed to feel he’d found the right solution, Fitz couldn’t keep his brain from imagining all the ways it could go terribly, terribly wrong. He relented in the end, recognizing the look Coulson wore as being a sign he’d made up his mind, and quietly returned to his seat. Things would shake out how they wanted, no matter what Fitz did. All he could really do was wait for that to happen. 

Jemma was deep into her work on hacking Mike Peterson’s eye camera encryption when May came in for an update. “Any luck?” she asked.

“No,” Jemma said shortly, and ignored her in favor of concentrating on her work. She had nothing more to say to her, not after what she’d done in betraying her trust. May, on top of Bobbi and Mack, was just too much.

She heard May sigh. “They were going to find out. You know that.”

Okay, she did have one thing to say. “You do know that it was my plan to switch the boxes, not Fitz’s?” she said sharply, eyes flashing. “I mean, he carried the plan out to perfection, but _I_ handed him the schematics.”

May rolled her eyes. “I don’t care whose plan it was--”

“You threw Fitz to the wolves!” Jemma cried, pushing up from her seat. 

“To protect you!” May shot back. “They raided the base for that box. You’re lucky you’re not in a cell right now.”

Jemma shook her head, her thoughts and emotions a jumble. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” she said, taking a step back. “You--you’re on their side!” 

“It’s not about sides,” May said. “It’s about the _truth_. Coulson left us with a mountain of lies. And the only way to understand his reasoning was inside that box.”

Jemma folded her arms and looked away, pressing her lips down into a line. “Honestly? I don’t care what’s in it,” she said quietly. “The only thing I know is that Coulson was just trying to protect Skye.”

May left her alone to keep working after that, and it wasn’t very long until they got two breakthroughs--Jemma thought she finally had a lead on getting through to Mike’s eye encryption, and they got a phone call from Skye of all people, who had gone missing from her secure location the night Gonzales had raided the Playground. Her call was brief, and she wasn’t able to tell them where she was, but she left the line open long enough for them to get a pin on her location. Bobbi said they could send in a team to go pick her up.

Then, Jemma was finally able to hack through to Mike’s eye feed. “Got him! Signal’s coming in,” she said, and both she and May turned to look at the large video screen taking up one wall of Coulson’s office. A grainy video signal popped up, fritzing for a moment before clearing out. What they saw made Jemma’s breath freeze.

Coulson was in view, wearing a Kevlar vest and holding a gun, but with him...was Grant Ward. Even worse, they appeared to be working together.

“Bloody hell,” she whispered.

All she could think of was Fitz, and she desperately hoped that he was okay, that Ward hadn’t done anything to him. 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explicit content warning!

Naturally nothing had truly gone right on this mission. Bakshi played his part perfectly, until he suddenly offered to turn Mike over as proof of his loyalty and Fitz ended up in the middle of a Mexican standoff with Kara’s knife pressed against his neck. He had a sharp moment of regret when he realized Mike was ready to blow the room to kingdom come that he’d never get to see Jemma again and that she’d likely never even know what happened to him, until Ward of all people convinced Coulson to go along with the plan. 

They tailed Bakshi, Mike, and Strucker to Milwaukee and into a decrepit office building. Even seeing it through Mike’s camera while the others went after Skye left every hair on Fitz’ body standing on end, a feeling that only worsened once the feed was hacked. The only comforting thought was that Jemma had to have been the one hacking in; no one else would have the ability to break into the encrypted feed. Fitz did what he could to ease her way before backing off to wait for the rest of his rag tag team. 

When they came back, Hunter was covered in blood. Fitz opened his mouth to ask what had happened only to be shaken off by the other man. 

“I’ll tell you later,” he gritted out as Coulson eased him into a seat near Fitz, “once we’re back at the Playground and your girlfriend’s had a chance to patch me up. Right now all I need is some help with a temporary fix.” 

Fitz nodded and grabbed the first aid kit, bringing it to Hunter so he could at least apply some antiseptic to the wound. “We’re, uh, we’re goin’ back t’ the Playground?” he asked as he watched the process, handing things to Hunter as he worked. 

“Yeah.” Hunter hissed as the ointment hit the wound but kept going. “Coulson figures we need Gonzales’ resources sooner rather than later. And with us having the Toolbox, we have a bargaining chip. So yeah, we’re going home.”

That was the best news Fitz had heard in ages, and he actually felt relief - and joy - come over him at the idea of seeing Jemma again. He felt guilty for feeling that way when there were people in danger, but the fact of the matter was he’d be more useful working with Jemma to come up with a solution than he was here, alone. Fitz relaxed back into his seat and tried not to count the minutes until they’d be back on the ground. 

Jemma was in the lab when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and she looked up to see May coming toward her with purpose. “I just received word from Coulson,” she said, keeping her voice low. “He and Fitz are headed back home. They’ve got Hunter with them.” Jemma’s face lit up, happy to hear that they were finally coming back, that she would see Fitz, and that Hunter was alive and well too, but May’s expression was still grim. “Ward is also with them,” she said. “Coulson wouldn’t give me any specifics except to say that he’s working with us. For now. They should be here soon.”

The news that Ward would be darkening their doorstep with his presence certainly soured her mood, but it wasn’t enough to keep Jemma from going straight to the hangar and waiting there for the quinjet. When it finally came into view and landed, her heart started racing. The ramp hadn’t even finished lowering before she was headed for it, her eyes scanning for any sign of Fitz. When she saw him, everything else fell away--Coulson, Mike, Hunter, even Ward, who was coming off the quinjet like he still owned the place--and she made a beeline straight for him, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him tight. It had only been a matter of days, but it felt like ages.

“You’re home,” she whispered against his ear, squeezing her eyes shut and breathing him in. She didn’t want to admit it, but she _had_ worried about him.

Fitz wrapped her up in his arms, his palms splayed against her back as he pulled her close and buried his face in her neck. He was home, but not for the reasons Jemma thought he was. It wasn’t their lab or their bunk or the walls of the Playground that made his home, but her. Fitz pulled back just far enough to press a kiss to Jemma’s forehead, uncaring of who might see the affectionate gesture.

“I’m home, just like I promised,” he answered, smiling down at her. “How’re things here? How are y’?” The last question was quiet, whispered so only they would hear it. Fitz couldn’t wait to hear how she’d been, but he didn’t want to undermine Jemma in front of their colleagues, either.

“Better now that you’re all here,” she said quietly, sliding her hands down to rest against his chest and toying with the buttons of his shirt. “It’ll be nice to finally have some support.”

It was hard for her to keep the bitterness from her voice, everything that she’d felt over the past few days regarding May’s actions and the ensuing isolation that had resulted from it. She had more pressing concerns though. “I should be asking _you_ that, though,” she added, concern filling her voice. “ _Ward_? What is he doing with you? May said Coulson wouldn’t tell her anything yet, that he’d explain once you arrived, but...has he gone mad?!” 

Fitz shook his head slightly, aware that there were still plenty of people - including Ward and Kara - lingering in the hangar. He didn’t want them to overhear their conversation and instead nudged Jemma toward the base proper. 

“It’s been an interestin’ few days, t’ say the least,” he told her, adjusting his grip on his backpack as they walked through the Playground’s halls. “It took me a few days t’ meet up with Hunter and Coulson, and once I did, they told me about pickin’ up Ward. They wanted an in with Hydra, and he was it.” Fitz couldn’t keep the note of bitterness out of his voice. While he could understand logically why Coulson did what he did, that didn’t mean Fitz was willing to let it go, either. “Agent 33 - Kara - came along as part o’ that deal.”

They came to their bunk and Fitz punched in the passcode to let them in. He stepped across the threshold, shut and locked the door behind him, and gave a comically large sigh of relief. “Y’ have no idea how good it feels t’ be back here. I was worried I’d be gone a lot longer than I was.”

Jemma immediately helped him shrug his backpack off; after she set it on the floor next to the bed, she came straight back to him to give him another, proper hug, her arms around his waist, her body pressed against his from shoulder to hip. “I was worried you’d be gone longer, too,” she murmured. Then she leaned up to kiss him, long and slow, but heartfelt. The joy of finally being able to kiss him after several days away helped to remove the sting of the fight they’d staged to get him away from the Playground, and reassured her that they were back where they belonged: together.

When they finally broke their kiss, Jemma sighed and rested her cheek against Fitz’s chest. “I can’t imagine Gonzales will be happy to know Coulson’s back, even if he thinks it might get him access to the Toolbox,” she said. “Do you have any idea what he has planned?”

“Not a clue,” Fitz answered truthfully, “other than he’s got somethin’ in the works t’ rescue Mike.” He brought his hands up to cradle Jemma’s face, his thumbs gently brushing over her cheeks as he looked at her. Just seeing her was starting to put him at ease, but there was one thing Fitz wanted to address before he turned his attention elsewhere. 

“Jemma, y’ know that, that I only said those things because I had t’, right?” He swallowed heavily and leaned forward to rest his brow against hers. “I wish I hadn’t needed t’, but we had t’ make it believable. I know y’ love me, regardless o’ everythin’ else.”

Jemma looked into his eyes for a moment, letting the sincerity of his words wash over her, and then she closed her eyes and swallowed, nodding, tilting her face into his touch. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you had to.” The things he’d said had still hurt to hear, though, almost like a glimpse into a life that could have been if things had gone differently, and she’d wanted no part of it. She slid her hands back up his chest to fiddle with the collar of his shirt and added, “I hope you know I’ll still put you first now. Always.”

“No, Jemma, I know. Never doubted it.”

Fitz took his hands from her face to wrap her in another hug. He knew there was work to be done - Coulson would likely need them for whatever he was planning - but all he wanted to do was stay in with Jemma for a little while. It had only been a few days but had felt like forever, and Fitz felt like he needed the time to get his equilibrium back. His hands began to trace over her back and his eyes slipped shut as he let Jemma’s presence wash over him. 

“I hate that he’s here,” Fitz muttered when he was finally able to place what was bothering him so much. “Ward. I hate that he’s back on the base.”

Jemma had her eyes closed too as she focused on the feeling of Fitz’s hands gently roaming over her back and how soothing it felt, her own hands splayed over his back too, but when he spoke she opened her eyes again. “I don’t like it either,” she said quietly, after a moment. “It just feels like asking for trouble.” She couldn’t stop the hate she felt for him from filling her up then, the anger at what he’d done to all of them, especially Fitz. He’d tried to kill them both and he’d nearly succeeded with Fitz, leaving him injured enough that he’d doubted himself and his worth for months. That was unforgivable to her. All she could think of in that moment was the promise she’d made to Ward the last time she’d seen him, and how much she wanted to fulfill it. 

It left her feeling almost heavy in Fitz’s arms, her mind spinning, thinking of any possible way she could exact her revenge. And that was exactly what it was--payback, penance for what he’d done to all of them, setting right a terrible wrong that he’d done. And it was up to her to do it.

She clutched Fitz tighter. She still had him, he was alive, he was here with her. “And I don’t like him being anywhere near you,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it was barely legible.

He could hear the protectiveness in Jemma’s voice, quiet as it was, and Fitz’ heart swelled with affection for her. As much as he wanted to protest that he could protect himself or that Jemma was in just as much need of protection, the fact that she wanted to do that for him made Fitz unbelievably happy. There had always been a fierceness to Jemma, be it the pursuit of science and discovery or carrying out the mission, and he loved seeing it in her now. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, nuzzling against her cheek briefly before pulling back. “I mean, pickin’ him up went all right. And if anythin’, maybe Ward should be worried about _me_.” Fitz tried to give her a smile but wasn’t sure he managed it. “I went after him on the quin. Hunter had t’ pull me off him.” 

He tried to tell himself that he only told Jemma because he didn’t want her to worry about him too much, but in all honesty, he wanted to boast a bit, too. And perhaps earn a few more sympathy kisses, if he could. 

Jemma’s eyebrows went up. “Really?” she asked, a smile spreading over her face. Though Ward was a definite menace, she knew Fitz was better able to handle himself now, and honestly, just the thought of her boyfriend giving Ward his much-deserved pummeling was enough to impress her and make her proud--and turn her on, just a little bit. Her hands curled into the back of his cardigan. “What happened?”

“He said somethin’ I took exception t’,” Fitz answered, keeping it purposefully vague. Jemma didn't need to know all Ward had said was hello. “And I made sure he knew it. 

“Honestly, Ward's lucky Hunter was there t’ stop me. Not sure what might've happened if he hadn't grabbed me.”

Jemma let go of Fitz’s cardigan to bring her hands around to slide up his chest, still smiling. “Would have been nice to really lay into him, I expect,” she murmured, still feeling whispers of that hatred for Ward. “Give him his due.” She knew Fitz was peacocking, but she couldn’t really fault him for it; besides, he was attractive like this, all confident and cocky. She pressed up on her toes to give him a slow, lingering kiss, but unfortunately her thoughts were still on Ward. When she pulled away, she bit her lip thoughtfully.

“But there might be a better way,” she said, looking up at him. “We got ahold of some of those splinter bombs that I discovered Hydra was developing while I was there. Imagine if one of us were to, say, acquire one, and then while we’re on this mission for Coulson, find him alone, stick one on him, and poof--no more Ward.”

She said it with an ugly sort of satisfaction, the idea settling in her mind and making perfect sense the more she thought about it. Yes, that would be the best way to get rid of him and make him pay for his crimes.

Fitz’ brain stuttered to a stop as he processed Jemma's words, his jaw going slack as he looked at her. It was jarring, to say the least, to have her kiss him that way and then suggest murder, and all the more so because he'd never known Jemma to have that kind of disregard for life. She understood that sometimes it was necessary in the field, but Fitz had never heard her suggest taking such measures. He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

Then there was the fact that splinter bombs were highly lethal, and like any grenade once they were switched on couldn't be shut off. What if it accidentally stuck to her or him, or Ward managed to turn the tables on them? Disappearing bit by bit and feeling it all the while was not a death Fitz would wish on anyone. Even if they were deserving of it. 

“I dunno, Jemma,” he said, keeping his tone measured. “That seems a bit risky, no? What if, what if he got it from us and used it on us instead. If anything happened to you, I couldn't bear it.” 

Jemma set her mouth in a firm line. “I’d make sure that wouldn’t happen,” she said darkly. “If it were me, he wouldn’t even be anywhere near you.”

She was resolute in her decision now, with or without Fitz’s blessing. He might have been okay with Ward’s continued existence, but she couldn’t stand the thought of it. After all the damage he’d done, the people that he’d hurt, nearly taking Fitz away from her, he didn’t deserve to live. She had to stop him before he did anything else. 

But she realized she was probably making Fitz a little uncomfortable, so she sighed, trying to dispel all of her darker thoughts, and rubbed her hands over his chest. “How long do you think we can hide in here before they’ll miss us?” she asked.

Fitz didn't believe for a second that Jemma had given up on the idea of killing Ward, but he didn't want to press the issue. The fact of the matter was that he couldn't really blame her for feeling that way, particularly considering he'd nearly done it himself. Part of Fitz even wondered if he shouldn't have just finished the other man off then and saved Jemma the trouble, but he knew better than to cry over spilt milk. 

Instead he focused on Jemma and feeling pleased that she was in front of him. He slipped his hands to her waist, his thumbs just sneaking beneath the hem of her top to skim over the soft skin of her waist. 

“Not sure,” Fitz answered honestly. “20, 30 minutes, perhaps. Why?” His smile went a bit sly. “Did y’ have somethin’ in mind t’ pass the time?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she murmured. She’d really had nothing specific in mind when she’d asked besides a general desire to be close to him, but the sly tint to his voice and the tease of his thumbs at her waist had put her on alert, all of her senses open to him. She ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her blush, even as she ran a finger over the buttons of his shirt. “It wouldn’t be very responsible of us, probably,” she added, thinking of how they’d slipped away in the middle of the day to be alone while trying to figure out what to do about Skye’s new abilities. “I _know_ it wouldn’t be responsible.” She looked back up at him then, her eyes large and dark. “But I really did miss you.”

Fitz had been half joking, not even daring to dream that rule-following Jemma Simmons would actually agree to sneak off for an afternoon rendezvous twice in a calendar year. But then again, this was the same woman who had been more than willing to secret the Toolbox out of the Playground in his bag and was plotting the murder of the man who’d nearly killed them both. So perhaps it was safe to assume the usual rules had gone right out the window. 

And how was he supposed to say no to Jemma when she was looking at him with those beautiful, dark eyes? Fitz had never been able to deny her anything when she fixed him with that look, and that held true now. All he could do was smile softly down at her and pull her closer using his hands on her hips. 

“Missed y’, too, baby girl.” Fitz whispered his answer against her lips, teasing her before he claimed an actual kiss. He kissed her with intent, lips sliding purposefully against Jemma’s own, but didn’t push for more. He’d never deny her, but Fitz would be just as happy cuddling for a few minutes before they had to go back to work as he’d be doing anything else. 

But Jemma kissed him back ardently, curling her hands into the lapels of his cardigan to keep him close. The heated slide of his lips over hers was everything she’d missed while he was gone, and the fact that she hadn’t been sure of where he’d been or how he was only made it better. Some might have said she should have had more self control, that a few day’s separation from Fitz didn’t warrant heavy snogging or more as a way of reuniting, but she was fully aware of how co-dependent they were. And frankly, she didn’t care.

The way he kissed her set her nerves alight, and she ran her tongue over his bottom lip before slanting his mouth open to deepen the kiss, going up on the balls of her feet to press even closer to him. She was willing to let things go where they might, but right now, in this moment, she wanted to kiss him deeply, stroking her tongue over his and feeling any sound he might make reverberate through to her chest.

Fitz groaned at the feeling of her tongue brushing against his, along with the press of Jemma’s body against his. He could never be sure how she did that, how she made it seem like she was trying to literally meld them together when they kissed, but it never failed to drive him out of his mind. Fitz’ hands wandered from her hips around to her arse and he tugged her against him, needing to keep Jemma as close as possible. 

Moving carefully so they wouldn’t interrupt their kiss, Fitz inched back toward the mattress, coaxing Jemma along with him. His mouth wandered over her jaw and down to her neck, nipping gently at the join of her shoulder and neck before soothing it with his tongue. Fitz had nearly forgotten how much fun just snogging could be and was grinning when he felt the backs of his knees hit the mattress. He sat, tugging Jemma along with him, and scooted back toward the center of the mattress. They didn’t land cleanly, meaning Fitz couldn’t kiss Jemma properly, but he made do by kissing the tiny sliver of skin exposed by the v of her blouse as he tugged her over him. 

Jemma made a soft noise in the back of her throat when Fitz palmed her arse, the contact sending tingles of excitement through her, and she slid her hands up to clutch at his shoulders and curve around the back of his neck. And then he was pulling her toward the bed, and her heart started to race as he trailed his lips down her neck and she couldn’t help but sigh happily, focusing on the tiny shock of pleasure each kiss and nip brought, the way his hands pulled gently at her.

And then she laughed as they fell to the bed, awkwardly trying to negotiate the mattress and each other. That laugh turned into another sigh and a gasp as his lips met the skin of her chest revealed by her blouse, just above the swell of her breasts. She stayed that way for a moment, crouched above Fitz with her hands planted into the mattress on either side of him, delighting in the feel of his mouth on her skin, before she moved back down to kiss him.

It was a passionate kiss, hard and almost messy, Jemma filled with longing and desire for how much she loved him, how much she loved displaying her affection like this, kissing him until his lips were swollen, running her hands into his hair and feeling how solid he was beneath her. She was convinced she could get drunk off his kisses and she felt well on her way now, dizzy with the joy of being able to be with him like this. She ran a line of kisses down his jaw to his ear, then pressed open-mouthed kisses around the shell of it until she could suck his earlobe into her mouth, letting it drag out between her teeth. “I love you,” she whispered, and kissed over his ear again.

Fitz gasped for air as he turned his head to the side, giving Jemma more room to do with him whatever she pleased. He cupped the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, to encourage her to keep kissing him there and arched up into her, his body responding on instinct. Jemma’s words, sweet as they were, contrasted with the heated way she kissed him and the dichotomy pulled a low groan from Fitz. 

“Love y’, too,” he murmured, using his hold on her to direct Jemma back to his lips. Fitz nipped at her bottom lip, quickly soothing it with his tongue before plundering her mouth. He loved the way Jemma tasted, that sweetness beneath everything else that was just her. Fitz could never get enough of it and it made it difficult to keep himself in check, despite his best intentions. His hands began to wander, one giving her arse a teasing squeeze before drifting down the back of her thigh to her knee. Curling his fingers over her, Fitz gently tugged, hitching her a little further up his body and squaring Jemma’s hips over his. 

In a move that may not have been entirely fair, he allowed his other hand to slip out of her hair, skimming over her back and to her side before working its way back up. With Jemma pressed to his chest, Fitz couldn’t touch her breast properly, but he did manage to brush his knuckles along the side, teasing her a bit through the thin material of her blouse even as they continued to snog. 

Jemma moaned when Fitz squeezed her arse, thrilling at his touch. She loved it when he got handsy, and tried to encourage it by arching a little into his touch, wherever his hands happened to be. She moaned again, quiet and breathy, as his knuckles brushed against the side of her breast. They were already sensitive, pressed against his chest and aching to be properly touched; she shifted slightly above him, sliding her chest over his and providing a little bit of friction. She sighed into his mouth as she continued to kiss him, over and over, one hand on his cheek while the other combed through his hair and, after a moment, she pressed her hips lightly down into his.

Fitz pressed up into her automatically, chasing the little bit of friction Jemma had provided. He had already been half hard in his jeans, and even that little bit of attention had his body ready for more. Fitz assumed that at some point, his libido would eventually slow down thanks to advancing age, but today was not that day. The hand that had hitched her leg higher made its way to Jemma's lower back, encouraging her to press closer as Fitz rolled his hips upward. Not wanting to neglect her breasts, he managed to slip his thumb under the lower curve and gently ran it up between them, seeking out her nipple even through the layers of cloth. 

Jemma hummed another soft, needy moan against Fitz’s mouth at the roll of his hips and the feeling of his growing erection pressing up against her center. The friction had sharp little waves of pleasure rolling out from where they met, and she was eager to chase more of it. Following the direction of his hand, she ground her hips down in tight little circles over him, a little harder than before, with more intent. That made the pleasure she was getting bloom even more, and as she continued to kiss him, she could only hope that he was getting just as much out of it as she was.

His thumb finally succeeded in swiping over her nipple, and even though there were layers of clothing between them, it was still enough to send another lance of pleasure arcing through her. Jemma broke away from his lips with a gasp to press kisses all over his face, from his cheeks to his forehead, his nose, chin, temple, jaw, and back to his mouth. She couldn't get enough of kissing him. “I _love_ you,” she whispered again without thinking, before kissing him deeply again.

Fitz smiled against her mouth and hummed, his lips too preoccupied with kissing Jemma to actually answer her. Jemma rarely repeated herself like that barring alcohol, and Fitz very much doubted Gonzales and his lot had instituted a noon happy hour. That meant _he_ was causing that particular reaction of Jemma’s, something that pleased Fitz to no end. It was one thing to know logically that he turned her on, but seeing and hearing it was a different kind of rush, one that only made him want to please her more. 

It took a monumental effort to take his hands from her body but Fitz forced himself to so he could push at her shoulders a bit, creating space between their bodies. He heard Jemma’s soft sound of protest, and while he wholeheartedly agreed, he knew that she’d appreciate what he had in mind. 

“It’s all right,” he murmured, still chasing her lips as he tugged her blouse loose from her jeans and began twitching the buttons loose. “Trust me. I’ve got y’, Jemma.” Fitz worked steadily until her blouse hung loose at her sides. It was only then that he took his mouth from hers to lean back and admire all the perfect, pale skin he’d revealed. He ran both his hands up her sides to cup her breasts through her bra before letting them drift back to the curve of her waist. 

“Bloody gorgeous,” he whispered, his tone low and reverent. Moments like this reminded Fitz what a lucky bastard he was, and he took a beat to appreciate Jemma a bit more before pulling her back down for another round of kisses. 

Jemma was only too happy to let Fitz undo the buttons on her blouse once she realized that was what he was after, and nipped at his lower lip as he got the top buttons open. Then she smiled breathlessly at him when he leaned back against the pillow, her eyes bright and chest heaving. Then her mouth dropped open in a gasp as he palmed her breasts.

But the contact was all too brief, and she fell back against him as he tugged her back down, kissing him in earnest. For a moment there was just the passionate slide of their mouths together, all teeth and lips and tongue, her hands on his face and his splayed over her back beneath her blouse, but it wasn't enough. She needed more.

Jemma pushed up again to sit across Fitz’s lap, then reached out to pull him up after her. As soon as he was upright she leaned in to kiss him again and slid her hands beneath his cardigan, pushing it down off his shoulders. She tugged at it until they'd both worked it off of him without breaking their kiss, then blindly tossed it off the bed behind her. She shrugged out of her blouse and it followed; then she turned her attention to the buttons of his shirt, moving to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck to his pulse point as she went.

Fitz rushed to undo his cuffs, wanting to help Jemma without inhibiting her progress. The last time he’d made that mistake, his shirt had paid the price; he had no intention of repeating the experience. He groaned as Jemma went after his neck, his head automatically falling back to give her room, each heated press of her mouth and swipe of her tongue winding him tighter than the moment before. 

Wanting more access to Jemma’s skin, Fitz’ fingers found their way to the band of her bra, seeking out the clasp. He made quick work of it and pulled it from her chest as Jemma pushed his shirt off his shoulders, leaving both of them naked from the waist up. Not wanting to lose any more of their precious time gawping at her, Fitz immediately bent his head to take one stiff, rosy nipple between his lips, lapping at it before suckling at her in earnest. 

Jemma arched into him and the action nearly caused her to slip out of his lap. Fitz growled at that, upset at the loss of contact, and automatically brought his hands beneath her bum. He manhandled her back into place, pressing her down against his cock as he switched to lavish attention on her other breast. 

She gasped as he took her breast in his mouth, trailing into a moan as his tongue swirled around her nipple. Nothing turned her on quite the way this did, got her worked up as quickly, and she ran her hands into his hair to clasp him to her, rocking her hips down against him as she continued to gasp out her pleasure, encouraging him to ravage her as hard or as little as he liked. 

“Fitz,” she breathed, raking her nails over his scalp. “I want you--”

Jemma’s words, rasped out between her breathy moans and gasps, pulled a low moan from Fitz as his fingers tightened on her hips. The thought that he might be leaving bruises crossed his mind but was quickly discarded in favor of encouraging her to keep up her pace, to take and give pleasure for them both in equal turns. 

While that was his intention, Fitz had trouble following through. His jeans were uncomfortably tight and having Jemma moving above him, fingers in his hair, making those sounds that never failed to drive me a bit insane, weren’t helping matters any. His control broke, his fingers making for the waist of her jeans. “Off,” he muttered against Jemma’s flushed skin. “Help me - Jemma, help me get these off.” 

Jemma let out a harsh breath, even more heat flooding her veins at the sound of Fitz’s voice, low and coarse with need. It took her a second to come to her senses enough to follow his direction, as overcome with desire as she was, and she was reluctant to leave his arms, but--needs must, and all.

She gave him one last kiss before she scooted backwards off his lap, then completely off the bed. She wobbled a bit as she stood--perhaps there really was something to be said for being drunk off of his kisses and attention--and hastily pulled off her boots and socks, with no grace whatsoever, then undid the button and zip of her jeans before shimmying both them and her knickers down over her hips.

He froze for a moment, watching as she undid her jeans, entirely entranced by the sight, before Fitz remembered he had something he was meant to be doing. He toed off his trainers and socks, kicking them off in the general direction of the door. They landed against the wood with two loud thumps, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Tearing his jeans and boxers off his legs was the most important thing at the moment, and his brain wasn’t circulating enough blood for Fitz to focus on more than one thing at once. He shoved them off the side of the bed and reached for Jemma. 

Fitz hauled her back onto the mattress, hands roving over her bare skin, his only aim having Jemma as close as humanly possible. One of his hands wound into her hair and Fitz used his newfound hold to pull her in for another heated kiss, all lips, teeth, and tongue powered by desperate need. “Jemma,” he sighed against her mouth as his hips rolled up into the promise of her heat. “Chris’, baby girl, do y’ have any idea what y’ do t’ me?”

Jemma dove into his kiss, relishing the feel of one of his hands tugging at her hair, just a touch too tightly, and the other roaming possessively over her body as she straddled him again, leaning down to press her bare chest against his. His words were nearly her undoing, the thought that she alone had the power to make him come unhinged, lose control, and give into base need. She knew it was true in practice, but it was another thing entirely to hear him put it into words. 

“I might,” she said cheekily, though it was somewhat undermined by how breathy her voice was, cut through with a gasp as the head of his cock brushed against her clit. “Because I know what you do to me.” She rolled her hips down into him with purpose, forcing the slide of his shaft through her folds, letting him feel how wet she was. She moaned as it rubbed him against her clit even more, her eyes fluttering shut. She had to kiss him again, hard, though it was brief before she pulled back to smile breathlessly down at him. “But--a girl likes to hear it sometimes.” 

Fitz tried to laugh at her cheeky comment but the sound was cut off by a groan as Jemma’s center pressed against his cock, slick and hot and exactly where he wanted to be. He cursed softly, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he encouraged her to roll her hips again, teasing them both just a bit longer. “I’ll have t’ tell y’ more often,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on her face as he slipped a hand between them. The angle was a bit awkward but he managed to get the pad of his thumb on her clit and circled it, thrilling at the way Jemma pressed into his touch. 

Multitasking in his current state wasn’t easy, but Fitz did his best, wanting to see Jemma’s reactions and hear her moans. He couldn’t keep that up for long though and quickly found himself reaching for the bedside drawer. He had to keep a hand on Jemma’s hip to keep her from sliding off to the side as he shifted beneath her. After fumbling with the box for a moment, Fitz came back with a foil packet, leaving it on the mattress beside his hip, and looked up at Jemma. 

“How do y’ want it, Jemma?” he rasped out, eyes falling to where they were pressed together before coming back to her face. “Whatever y’ want, just tell me.” 

Braced above him, Jemma reached a hand out to palm his cheek, running a thumb over his bottom lip. “Just like this,” she murmured breathlessly, giving her hips a little swivel over his. She knew he liked having her on top, and she was feeling giving--she wanted him to have everything he desired.

Fitz’ eyes narrowed, suspicious that Jemma was merely giving him what he wanted instead of actually telling him what she desired. He was tempted to say something about it, but the roll of her hips obliterated any protest he might have formulated. Instead he gasped, lips pressing against the pad of her thumb as his tongue darted out to tease it, and reached for the condom, tearing it open as he brought it back between them. 

Using one hand to scoot Jemma onto his thighs so he’d have enough room, Fitz rolled the condom over himself. As soon as that was done he reached for her once more, his fingers curving around her hips before slipping down to palm her arse and lift her onto her knees. That sight of Jemma on her knees, ready and poised above him, pulled another moan from deep in his chest. Unable to wait any longer, Fitz held himself in place, the head of his cock nestled against Jemma’s folds, and arched his hips up as he tugged her down to meet him. 

The look on Jemma's face as she sank down onto him would hopefully forestall any doubts that having him this way wasn't what she truly wanted. Her mouth dropped open on a moan at the stretch of him inside her, the way he filled her perfectly, her expression transported. She propped herself up with her hands on his chest once he was fully buried inside her and ground her hips down, trying to take him in even deeper.

“God, I love this,” she moaned. “I love _you._ ”

She leaned forward to kiss him thoroughly before sitting back up and using her hands, braced on his chest to push up off of him, then sank back down.

He’d been of a mind to tell Jemma he loved her too but she’d stolen the breath he’d had left too quickly to do so. Fitz settled for showing her instead, craning his neck to keep kissing her as long as possible before she sat back. He wondered if she realized just how sexy she was, looking at him with that smoldering heat in her eyes, her lip caught between her teeth as she began to ride him. Fitz was struck yet again by the thought that he was the luckiest man on the face of the Earth, and gazed up at Jemma in adoration. 

Fitz’ favorite thing about this particular position was that it left his hands free, something he took full advantage of at that moment. He ran hands up her thighs to her hips, thumbs circling the crests of her hip bones before venturing further up. Fitz had long ago memorized the curve of her waist, but he mapped it once more on his way to her breasts. He skimmed the full lower curve of each one first before palming them fully, teasing his thumbs across her nipples as he thrust up into Jemma, meeting her on her downstroke and pulling an appreciative groan from deep in his chest. 

There were few things Jemma loved more than the play of passion and pleasure over Fitz’s face as they made love. She let it feed into her own, watching the way his expression changed with each thrust, how his mouth bowed open and his brow drew in. She was sure it was a match for herself, the way she couldn't keep the pleasure he was stoking within her from being written across her own face.

They fell into a steady rhythm, Jemma twisting her hips a little on each downstroke and Fitz managing to hit the same spot within her on each thrust that had her rapidly spiraling out toward the edge. His hands on her breasts only magnified the sensation, each flick of his thumbs over her nipples sending hot licks of pleasure burning through her. She leaned forward a little to curl her hands over Fitz’s shoulders, upping her pace a little, and moaned again at how good he felt on every thrust.

Nothing got him hotter than when Jemma was vocal in bed, and now was no exception. He whimpered at her words, thrilled beyond belief to hear her tell him just what he made her feel. Her change in position also made it possible to bring his mouth into play and Fitz didn’t hesitate to attach his mouth to the first available patch of skin. He laid a series of sloppy kisses over her shoulder and collarbone before stopping at the base of her throat. Fitz’ tongue darted out, teasing, before he began to suckle at her throat. 

He had fully intended to be careful not to leave a mark, but the bite of Jemma’s nails in his shoulders and the sounds she was making meant he couldn’t keep that particular promise. “That’s it, baby girl,” he ground out against her neck. “Perfect. Y’ feel so damn good, I- Oh, _shite_.” A low, rumbling growl worked its way past his throat as she swiveled against him, her movement causing stars to burst behind his eyelids. Needing more of her, his hands fell to her hips, guiding her movement as she rode him, both encouraging her to maintain her pace and simply for the sake of being able to touch her. 

She'd meant it earlier when she said she liked hearing Fitz spell out his desire for her, and it was still true now. Jemma moaned again as she felt his words rasp against her neck, a sharp thrill of pleasure washing through her, and she reached up with one hand to briefly run it through his hair. It pressed his mouth against her pulse point and she gasped at the wet warmth on her sensitive skin.

It only spurred her to ride him even harder, her thighs beginning to burn with the exertion, but it was worth it for the way Fitz groaned and dug his fingers into her hips. It gave her a rush of pure lust to follow his direction, leaning her hips into his hands and knowing he was guiding her to seek out the maximum pleasure he could get, and all she wanted to do was make him feel absolutely bloody fantastic, and get herself off in the process. But it was getting harder to focus when every one of his thrusts was making her lose her mind.

“Oh god--Fitz--you-- _god_ ,” she moaned, completely far gone, her voice wobbling with the force of his thrusts. “I want you. I _want_ you.”

Something about her tone of voice left Fitz feeling fiercely possessive. He took his hands from Jemma’s body to wind through her hair instead, directing her to look at him. Close enough that their noses were brushing, Fitz spoke, his voice nearly unrecognizable to his own ears. “Y’ have me, all o’ me, Jemma. I’m yours.” That was all he could manage before his baser urges demanded his attention once more, urging him to slake his lust. 

Fitz dug his heels into the mattress, using that slight bit of purchase to thrust even harder up into Jemma, grunting with the effort. A distant part of his mind noted that there would be no way the others wouldn’t know what they’d been up to - these rooms were far from soundproof and he had a feeling they’d each be wearing particularly pleased grins when they exited - but he didn’t care. Jemma was _his_. His to hold and care for and cherish and make love to, and if what she wanted was him, Fitz would gladly oblige. 

“Yes,” he hissed, “yes, yes, Jemma, c’mon I’ve got y’.” Spreading his fingers wide, Fitz could just stretch his thumb to where they were joined, reaching for that all-important bundle of nerves. Not trusting his coordination at the moment, he settled on just putting pressure there, trusting that the force of their joining would be enough to help push Jemma closer to the edge. 

Jemma tried to kiss him, but she couldn't; her mouth had fallen open on a near-constant litany of gasps and moans now, their lips and noses still brushing as they rocked urgently together. She could barely keep her eyes open, either, desperately wanting to see him and have that nearly unbearable intimacy of staring into each other’s eyes as they came together like this, but the pleasure that was overwhelming her made her want to toss her head back, eyes tightly shut.

But she tried, her eyes unfocused and dark on his, one hand curled into his hair as she chased their combined pleasure with everything she had. His thumb pressing against her clit, the strength of his thrusts and the way he encouraged her with words was what did it for her. The first wave of her orgasm swelled up suddenly, and she cried out sharply.

“Fitz, Fitz, I'm so--don’t stop-- _yes--”_

The rest of it rushed down on her and she keened out another long moan, the movement of her hips going disjointed as her body shuddered above him, riding out of the waves of her release.

Fitz felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as he watched Jemma, enthralled with the way she looked as she lost control. Only he got to see her this way, to feel the way her body shuddered with the force of her orgasm, to kiss her through it. He murmured her name and other quiet praises and he kissed along her jaw, needing to touch her every way that he possibly could. 

He cradled her close as she drifted down from her high, the aftershocks of her muscles clenching around him and driving him over the edge as well. His mind went blank with white-hot pleasure and he gave one last, strong thrust into Jemma as he came with a shout he sloppily muffled against her shoulder. Fitz’ arms wrapped tight around her, needing Jemma close and holding her in place over him while the cobwebs slowly cleared from his mind. 

Bit by bit, his muscles relaxed and Fitz began to skim his hands over Jemma’s back as he pressed several quick kisses to her temple. “I love y’,” he whispered between pecks. “So, so much. Always, Jemma.”

Jemma was content to lay bonelessly against Fitz’s chest, her hands curled loosely over his shoulders as she soaked in his kisses and the gentle rub of his hands, floating down from her pleasure high. “I love you too,” she murmured back, a smile playing over her lips. “So much.” Then she sighed. “I wish we could just stay here like this.”

But she didn’t want her weight on him to become a bother, so after a moment, she wearily pushed up to slide off of him, hissing slightly when he pulled out of her. She landed with a light thump on the bed beside him and immediately curled up on her side, still feeling a little too dazed and rubbery to really move.

Fitz whimpered in protest when she pulled away, missing the comforting weight and heat of Jemma as soon as she’d gone. He understood though, knowing she was likely rather sore, and shifted just enough to run a hand over her hip and thigh. “I know. Just give me a second. I’ll be right back,” he excused himself, taking care of the condom and coming back to lie next to Jemma. 

His hands went back to her thigh, gently kneading as he worked his way up and down from her knee to hip in the hope of dissipating some of her soreness. Jemma’s words tumbled about his head as his fingers worked. “Y’ know, we could just stay here, or in our room, if we were consultants. No one tells Tony Stark t’ come out and play when he doesn’t want t’.”

Jemma breathed out a soft laugh, smiling widely at him as she wriggled just a little closer on the bed, her eyes glowing with affection. “Tony Stark also has a lot more money and influence than we do, Fitz,” she said. The press of his fingers into her muscles really wasn’t encouraging her to want to get back up anytime soon, nor did the heat radiating from his body. She splayed her hands over his chest, basking in the warmth of his skin, and considered that in this moment, she felt incandescently happy. “But you’re right,” she added. “If we were consultants, we’d have a lot more say in what we did with our time.”

A thought snagged in her mind then, how she’d felt during their staged breakup when Fitz had mentioned finally getting the flat they’d always dreamed about, and how she’d thought that maybe they really needed to talk about it. Now was perhaps not the best time for it, but a part of her wanted to mention it while it was on her mind, and before she lost her nerve.

“Fitz,” she said hesitantly, the fingers of one hand skimming over his collarbone, “I realize right now might not be a good time for it, because we really should be getting back to the lab soon, but...I--I think we might need to talk. Just, sometime soon. About our future here.”

Fitz considered her for a moment, hope blooming in his chest. He had only stayed with S.H.I.E.L.D. because they provided the best chance to play with the best tech while helping the largest number of people. He could still help people outside of the agency, albeit with a far more limited budget. 

“My future is with y’, Jemma.” He reached out to cup her cheek and leaned in for a sweet kiss. “The idea of workin’ on our own terms sounds nice, doesn't it?” 

Jemma stayed close when Fitz broke the kiss, feeling her heart begin to flutter with an excited sort of nervous energy. “Not necessarily that,” she said in a rush, “but--just--stability. Being able to wake up every day without worrying that I’ll lose you, or--or that something horrible beyond our control will rip us apart.” She couldn’t help but think of Section 17, of Hydra, even now with real S.H.I.E.L.D. In the beginning, the thrill of danger had been exciting, but so many close calls and nearly losing Fitz for good had put things in sharp perspective. A quieter life had more appeal, now.

“I just don’t think I could fully leave our team behind,” she added. That was her one reservation; they were like family to her now. “We could consult. I just...I don’t think this life is fully for me anymore.” She leaned in to give him another kiss. “But I could make do anywhere, as long as I had you.”

“No one says it has t’ be a one bedroom flat, Jemma.” He gave her a half shrug, his movement hampered by the mattress. “They get leave time. They can come visit, too.”

He linked their fingers together and brought Jemma's hand to his mouth for a quick kiss. The truth was that Fitz wasn't ready for an entirely clean break, either. The other thing that appealed about S.H.I.E.L.D. was how fast-paced the work was. He might miss the break-neck pace, but he wouldn't miss risking their lives every week. 

“Things are hectic now, but maybe, once we settle things with Coulson and Gonzales, maybe it's time t’ look at leavin’.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, tightening her fingers through his and looking into his eyes, a small smile on her face. “Maybe it is.”


	20. Chapter 20

Jemma still felt that nervousness, that anxiety over approaching a leap into the unknown, but there was the reassurance that it would be with Fitz, with whom she’d always felt safe. And taking the next step in their relationship was an exciting prospect, to be sure.

It was enough to make her kiss him yet again, slow and lingering and sweet, wanting to savor the moment they were sharing and the idea of something to look forward to in the future, before she leaned back and sighed. “We probably shouldn’t stay in here much longer,” she said regretfully. “They’ll be wondering where we are.”

Fitz snorted a bit at Jemma's statement, knowing full well that they'd been missed already. And unlike Skye, Hunter couldn't be trusted to keep his comments to himself. Even the thought of their friend teasing them didn't put a damper on his good mood. How could it, when he had the promise of moving in with Jemma - in an actual flat, not just a bunk - to look forward to. He gave her another smile, reached over to give her bum a playful squeeze, and levered himself off the mattress to find his boxers.

“With Hunter leadin’ the pack lookin’ for us, I'd bet.” He fished his boxers from the floor, but hesitated to actually pull them on. 'Do y’ think there's time for a quick shower? I think I could use it before gettin’ back t’ work.” 

Jemma squeaked a bit when he pinched her, then pushed up to sit and run a hand through her messy hair as she watched him reach for his boxers. “Oh, no doubt,” she said with an eye roll, thinking about how merciless Hunter would be in his teasing. Then she pondered his question. “You could, maybe, but how obvious would it be if I came out with damp hair too?” She paused, biting her lip. “Or did you really just mean you?”

Of all the things Fitz could be accused of being, stupid wasn't one of them. If Jemma wanted to shower with him, then she'd get just that. He dropped his boxers and reached for Jemma's hand, tugging her off the mattress and toward the bathroom. 

“Who cares if it's obvious?” he asked as he herded her along, snuggling up behind her as they passed into the en suite. “Coulson told us t’ keep it confined t’ our room, and we have. If they needed us, they could have come knockin’. Besides, we'll feel better goin’ t’ work refreshed.” Fitz leaned around Jemma to turn on the taps, keeping his hand on her waist to adjust the water to their preferences. 

Jemma couldn’t help but smile as he bustled her into their bathroom, silently cheering at the promise of more skin-to-skin contact. She was feeling a little greedy, and dared anyone to blame her. Also, it gave her the opportunity to further imagine what it might be like if they were in their own flat--a lazy weekend afternoon together to spend as they liked, making love, cuddling afterward and talking quietly, then showering together for as long as the hot water would hold out. They still didn’t have that luxury of time now, but it was nice to think about.

“We’ll still likely have to deal with Hunter, but he doesn’t bother me,” she said, testing the water temperature with her hand. She leaned back against his chest a little. “Besides, it’ll be worth it.” Judging that the water was just right, she turned her face to press a kiss to his cheek, then stepped into the shower stall and beneath the spray to start wetting her hair down. 

Fitz stood outside the shower for a moment, feeling absolutely besotted as he watched Jemma. Aside from the obvious reason he had to watch her, the fact was that there was a lightness to her that he hadn’t seen in the longest time. It reminded him strongly of the way she’d been when they first met at the Academy, eager and full of excitement and good cheer. Jemma still had those traits, but with the work they’d been doing as of late they didn’t come out all that often. It was refreshing to see. 

Realizing that water was splashing onto the floor, Fitz stepped into the stall and closed the door behind him. The effect was startlingly intimate and he did what felt most natural to him: stepping in to put his arms around Jemma as she stood beneath the spray. Ignoring the water streaming over them, Fitz turned his face into her neck, nuzzling her briefly before reaching for Jemma’s shampoo. “May I?” he asked, holding it up for her to see.

Jemma reflexively smiled as Fitz wrapped his arms around her, the combined warmth of the water and his body and the sensation of the water slicking over their skin making her feel relaxed, content, and happy. When he gestured with her shampoo, she nodded. “Of course,” she said, then leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his lips before she obediently turned around, getting her head out of the spray. 

Fitz squeezed a bit of the shampoo into his palms, setting the bottle aside so he could focus on the task at hand. He worked carefully, massaging Jemma’s scalp with his fingertips as he worked his way through her hair. He took a great deal more time with her than he would have with himself, appreciating each and every one of the hums she made, but eventually he had to give it up. Fitz leaned over her shoulder, just far enough to soak his own hair before nudging Jemma back under the water to rinse off. 

He watched her unabashedly as he sudsed up his own hair, admiring the way that Jemma seemed able to make even the most mundane tasks graceful. Even she couldn’t pull off that kind of magic when they had to switch positions, though, even as slender as they both were, and Fitz found himself chuckling a bit as they tried to work it out so neither of them slipped. 

“We get our own place, I’m buildin’ us a bigger shower,” he said as he tilted his head back into the water. “Big enough for two. Maybe with those rainfall shower heads. And a bench.”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” Jemma said, as she squeezed a small amount of conditioner into her palm and began to work it through her hair. Just the thought of an expanded shower stall with extra amenities was enough to send her off daydreaming. “With nice tile. And maybe a jetted tub if either of us feel like a relaxing soak. Oh! And double vanities. That’s a must. Whenever we go looking for a flat, I absolutely insist we get double vanities. That way, we won’t have to fight over who gets the mirror in the mornings.”

Leaving the conditioner to set in her hair for a few minutes, she picked up her body wash and a washcloth, squeezed out a small dollop, and started running it over her arms and chest while watching Fitz finish washing the shampoo out of his hair. It was a pleasure to watch him, eyes closed and head tilted back, fingers scrubbing through his hair and water rushing over his body. When he was done, she flicked her washcloth at him. “What else do you think you’d want out of your ideal flat?” she asked, curious.

Fitz made a half-hearted grab for the washcloth, happy both for the chance to be playful and hearing Jemma talk about her dream bathroom. Even if they couldn’t find a place with a double vanity, he could always put one in for her, so long as there was enough space and he had the landlord’s blessing. Although, with all the things she wanted, Fitz was beginning to think they might want to consider buying instead of renting. 

“Uh,” he began, trying to think about what he’d want in their ideal home. “Really, y’ covered most of it with the bathroom. I’d just add a good-sized kitchen and three bedrooms. One for guests and another t’ turn into a workspace for us.” If they wound up with a house instead their private lab could be moved to another structure, but Fitz didn’t want to go too far down that road. If he let himself he’d have blueprints drawn up before they even put in their resignations. 

Jemma smiled widely as she bent a little to scrub the washcloth over her legs. “Brilliant thinking. Of course we’d need a workspace. But oh, just think of what we could get away with if we bought instead of renting or leasing.” She straightened back up and stepped back into Fitz’s space, pressing her hands and the washcloth to his chest. “Depending on the space, and how ambitious we felt, and how much we wanted to spend, we could customize it so it would be like our own little lab space.”

She was getting excited again as she spoke; the more she thought about it, the more the idea of her and Fitz having a place to call their own, carving out an existence just for themselves, the more happy she became. She wanted that life, where she could wake up with him every day, go to work somewhere that hopefully still fulfilled her, and then be able to come home in the evenings to the promise of safety and security and Fitz by her side. They could still have the occasional adventure, but now the appeal of domesticity was just too great.

And, though she wasn’t sure she was ready to tell Fitz yet, she’d imagined children, too. Not soon, but someday, eventually. She wanted a life with Fitz, and that meant a family, too, if he wanted it as well.

She went up on the balls of her feet to give him a quick kiss and then took him by the shoulders to carefully nudge him out of the water again so she could rinse the conditioner out of her hair and wash the suds off her body. “Just think about it, Fitz,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “We could possibly do some of our consulting from home.”

Naturally Jemma and he were on the same page and Fitz couldn't help but grin when she mentioned owning instead of leasing. He moved where she directed him, grabbing his own washcloth along the way. He soaped it up and roughly scrubbed it over his chest and shoulders. 

“That'd be the goal, I'd think,” he replied, moving on to the rest of his torso. “Figure we'd have t’ work for someone at first, start t’ save and build a client base. Maybe even strike out on our own with a few patents, so there's money comin’ in while we try t’ do that. It would help build a name for ourselves, too.” 

Fitz fell silent as they switched so he could have a final rinse. S.H.I.E.L.D. was so possessive of their inventions that he worried that would be the biggest hurdle. Anything that had been developed in S.H.I.E.L.D. labs would face a challenge from them regarding who would get the patent, meaning he and Jemma would be working double hours to ensure there was a clean delineation between their public and private work. The sacrifice would be worth it, though, if it could set them up for the long run. 

Picking up on his thoughts, Jemma smiled. “We’d have to fight for the rights to anything we’ve developed with S.H.I.E.L.D., but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t come up with anything new in the meantime. Between the two of us, I’m sure there’s loads of clever things we could design. Didn’t you have a notebook full of ideas that you had to put aside once we started at SciOps and we were handed down most of our assignments? We could always start there.”

Seeing that he was done rinsing himself off, she moved in again to place her hands on his chest, both to be close and to feel the warm water falling over them, and also because she knew they were going to have to get out of the shower in a moment and she wanted one last grab at intimacy with him before they had to go back to being professional. “This gives me something to look forward to,” she murmured, smiling up at him almost bashfully. “I can’t wait.”

Fitz wrapped one arm around Jemma's waist, pulling her even closer as he cupped her cheek with his other hand. Hearing her say that she was excited for their future made him feel effervescent, every nerve tingling in anticipation of the day they could walk away from the dangerous aspects of their job. 

“Me, too,” he whispered, kissing her briefly before pulling back to grin at her. “I'll see if I can find that notebook later. I know I brought it with me from the Hub when I was assigned t’ the Bus. It's around here, somewhere.”

He stole another kiss before cutting the water, opening the door, and reaching for towels. He handed one to Jemma and stepped out to dry off, letting her stay in the warmer stall instead. He made a quick job of it, pulling the towel across his curls and body before wrapping it around his waist. He spared another look for Jemma, smiling softly before he went to get dressed, not wanting to distract either of them further. 

Jemma lingered in the stall, not wanting to leave its warmth, and took an extra minute to buff all of the water from her short hair. Then she dried the rest of her body off before wrapping the towel around herself and stepping out into the bedroom.

She considered trying to save herself a little bit of whispering and teasing by putting her discarded clothes back on, but figured leaving her hair damp would ruin her attempt at being stealthy anyway, so she pulled a fresh blouse from the wardrobe along with clean underwear and went about putting them on along with her jeans and boots. Once she was dressed, she went back to the bathroom, squeezing Fitz’s shoulder as she passed him, and hung up her towel. Then she combed her hair and saved time by pulling it back into a low ponytail instead of drying and styling it. She would draw more attention to herself that way, but as Fitz had surmised, everyone probably knew what they were doing anyway.

A quick dash of makeup had her ready to face the world again, but she lingered at the foot of the bed. “Now we’ll have to go see what in the world Coulson wants Ward for,” she said darkly.

They gathered in one of the meeting rooms on the Playground, Coulson and his original team along with Gonzales, Bobbi, Hunter, and Trip. Fitz drifted away from Jemma and over to stand with the other Brit while Coulson got settled, hoping that putting some distance between them might keep what they’d been up to underwraps. He had no such luck. 

“Christ, you were only gone for a few days,” Hunter muttered, shaking his head a bit. 

“Yeah, well,” Fitz glanced at Jemma, eyes soft, before he turned his head to smirk at the merc, “y’ only wish y’ got the homecoming I did.”

He wondered if he’d hit too close to home when he saw Hunter look at Bobbi, his expression darkening, but the other man didn’t say anything. Instead Coulson called them all to order and launched into his plans. It turned out that what he wanted with Ward was to use him to run a rescue op for Mike Peterson and the other man who’d been captured. There was a tense moment when Gonzales put it up to a vote and it wound up deadlocked, only to have May break it with a vote in favor of the mission. The one condition placed on it was that only those who had originally been on the Bus were allowed to go, drawing protests from Hunter, Trip, and Bobbi. Gonzales stood firm, though, and that seemed to be that. 

Coulson laid out their roles and what they would need, then dismissed them with instructions to gather their gear and be mission ready in an hour. They did just that, with Fitz and Jemma gathering their things before changing their street clothes out for tac gear. The entire time he had to fight to keep his focus on putting his gear on correctly and not on wondering whether or not Jemma had packed the splinter bombs they’d talked about earlier. 

There was a part of Fitz that automatically recoiled at the idea of Jemma killing Ward that way. It seemed far too cold, too calculated, for him to truly feel comfortable. However, he also had to admit that if their roles had been reversed and Jemma had nearly died, Fitz wouldn’t have hesitated to pull all of the oxygen from Ward’s containment cell and leave him to his fate. When he thought of it that way, he couldn’t really fault her. All he did was throw up a half-hearted prayer to the universe at large to keep her safe during the op; any other fallout they’d deal with later. 

Suited up and ready to go, Fitz joined Jemma and the others as they boarded the Bus. They had just been ready to climb to the second level when a clanking startled them all, the end result being Ward on his knees with May’s weapon trained between his eyes. As satisfying as the image was, it turned out that it had only been Skye. They joined her upstairs where Fitz and Jemma promptly bombarded her with questions about where she’d been and who she’d met. She put them off, though, citing the fact that she didn’t want Ward to know about her personal life, something Fitz couldn’t hold against her. 

Coulson saved her from any more questions by walking into the newly redesigned command center on the Bus and beginning a more detailed mission debrief for them all. 

As happy and relieved as Jemma was to see Skye back safe and sound, and have her on the op with them, it didn’t last very long into Coulson’s mission brief. When he had Ward take over, getting them up to speed on the intel Bakshi had provided on the base they were going to infiltrate, it was like red started to slowly overtake her vision. There Ward was, giving them information and recommending tactics as if it were still their first days on the Bus, as if nothing had ever happened, as if he hadn’t betrayed them all and nearly killed both her and Fitz.

She could feel her whole body going tense, her jaw gritting and her mouth curving down into a tight frown. And it wasn’t just her. The tension in the room from everyone else in the room was palpable, so much so that even Ward finally noticed it. When he finally addressed the elephant on the plane, as he called it, Jemma couldn’t believe her ears. Coulson tried to keep him on task, but Ward seemed ready to blame everything else under the sun for what he’d done except himself. When he said he couldn’t even regret throwing her and Fitz in the ocean, she nearly turned and left the room; she had to ball her hands into fists to keep from lashing out.

Coulson finally got them back on track, much to her relief. He split them up into two teams--her, Skye, and Ward on search, rescue, and medical for Mike and Skye’s friend Lincoln, and Coulson and Fitz on intel retrieval, with May for backup. Naturally, Jemma didn’t like being split up from Fitz, but understood that it was necessary.

From there, everyone was focused on preparing for their plan of reaching the base. It was risky, but Coulson was confident it would work. They donned their cold weather gear and went to go up and strap into the quinjet that was docked on top of the Bus, and as soon as the base’s ground-to-air missile defense system targeted the Bus and fired, May undid the locks that had them docked to the larger plane, aiming to descend disguised as debris from the destroyed Bus.

It was an extremely bumpy ride down, and Jemma clutched her seatbelt straps tightly, shooting Fitz more than one worried glance as they went. She knew a moment’s regret for the Bus, too, thinking back on the happy memories she’d made there and how it had helped bring her and Fitz back together. But she couldn’t dwell on those thoughts, because they’d landed and now faced a long, cold trek through the tundra toward the base. Jemma gave Fitz’s hand a quick, tight squeeze where the others couldn’t see before following Coulson and May out across the frozen ground.

They found Bakshi quickly enough once they were inside and Fitz had to fight to keep his skin from crawling as Ward reinforced his brainwashing. It was downright creepy to hear and even odder to see the almost adoring way the other man looked at Ward. Fitz elected to focus on Jemma instead, silently willing that she’d make it through the coming mission alive and well. He didn’t want to say anything in front of the others, wanting to maintain a professional air, but couldn’t keep himself from whispering after her as she left with Ward, Skye, and Bakshi. 

He waited as Coulson and May cleared the room of Hydra agents before settling into the seat at the main terminal. Fitz could see the specialists set up on either side of him, ready to take on any danger that might come their way, but he quickly focused in on the terminal before him. Losing himself in the code, he began the work of disrupting the missile defenses, prioritizing it over gathering intel. Pulling anything that looked like it might be even remotely interesting to S.H.I.E.L.D., wouldn’t take much time at all, particularly if he focused on quantity and not quality. They could always sort through it later, since once Gonzales’ jets had leveled the base, they wouldn’t get another chance at it. 

Jemma, Skye, and Ward followed Bakshi to the lab where they encountered a team of Hydra agents, who Skye and Ward quickly took out while Bakshi and Jemma stayed under cover. Once everything was clear, they ran in, and that was where they found Mike Peterson. Jemma was shocked at his condition--his cybernetic leg and eye were completely missing, and he definitely looked worse for wear. He said he wasn’t in that bad of shape, though, not compared to Skye’s friend Lincoln. When Skye demanded to know where Hydra had taken him, Mike told her, and she raced to another section of the lab to go find him. While Jemma looked Mike over to assess his condition, she instructed Ward to go find something sturdy enough to carry Mike out on. He turned to leave, and that, Jemma realized, was her opportunity.

She’d slipped one splinter bomb into a case to bring with her without anyone knowing, before they’d left the Playground. Once Mike assured her that he would be fine for a moment, she left him under the pretense of going to assist Ward. Then she walked in the direction he’d gone, slipping the bomb from the case in her pocket, her heart starting to race.

She found him in a supply room, sorting through bits of sheet metal. Quietly, so as not to announce her presence, she hit the trigger on the bomb. This was her chance to right a terrible wrong, to make sure that Grant Ward could never hurt anyone ever again. This was her chance to make him pay for nearly killing Fitz. She took a deep breath and stepped around the corner, bringing her arm up to throw the bomb at him.

Suddenly Bakshi was there, yelling as he threw himself at her, blocking her path to Ward. She cried out as she shoved him off of her, pushing him to the ground. Then she staggered, trying to catch her breath as he stood back up, preparing to launch himself at her again. But when he’d attacked her, the splinter bomb had lodged itself in his shoulder, and now Jemma watched in horror and he dissolved to ash right in front of her, his mouth open in a terrifying scream of agony.

Panicking, Jemma started to pull her gun, but Ward already had his trained on her. “We’re on the same team,” he said, eyes narrowed as he advanced on her. “What were you thinking?”

She forced herself to swallow down her fear and stare him in the eye. “That I made you a promise,” she said, thinking of what she’d said all those months ago, of how much she hated him. Thinking of Fitz.

Ward looked unimpressed. “What--that you would kill me? I thought we were past that.”

Feeling reckless and desperate and absolutely certain that she was about to die, Jemma squared her shoulders. “Go on then,” she said. “Get it over with, you monster.”

Ward walked right up to her, his gun held inches from her face. They stared at each other for a long moment, unblinking. All Jemma could hear was the blood pounding in her ears, rushing down on the finality that this was how she would end; all she hoped was that maybe Skye would find her first, instead of Fitz. And that hopefully they might understand someday what she had tried to do for them, and why.

Finally, Ward lowered the gun slightly. “You really have changed, Simmons,” he sneered. “I’m disappointed in you.” Then he turned and walked away from her without another word or glance back.


	21. Chapter 21

Jemma’s breath left her in a whoosh, and suddenly her legs were shaking. She leaned back against the wall as she tried to get past the adrenaline crash of having stared death in the face, and having failed in her mission so badly. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she couldn’t fall apart now. She still had a job to do. She pressed her hands to her face for a moment, trying to find her center again, before turning to run back to Mike Peterson.

There was one startling moment when two Hydra agents burst into the mainframe room, but May took them out before Fitz could even react. He quickly finished the job he’d been sent in to do, pulled every usable bit of data off their machines, and followed Coulson and May back to the rendezvous point. His eyes sought out Jemma first, and seeing her released the knot of tension that had settled in his stomach. He saw Mike Peterson on one gurney, steered by Jemma, while Skye had control of the other. Fitz didn’t recognize him, but assumed it was the other powered person that had been taken in Milwaukee. 

Their escape went smoothly for once, with the quin taking off and clearing the Hydra base’s airspace well before Weaver’s squadron arrived to blow the thing to smithereens. Fitz’ first instinct during the flight was to help Jemma in any way he could, but knew he’d just be in the way while she performed her triage. Instead he settled into one of the seats and pulled out his laptop to begin digging through the data he’d pulled, sorting through what was useful and what was not. 

Back at the Playground he helped Jemma and Skye get the men into the medical bay. Mike, being awake and able to talk, was left to Fitz’ care. Between his report of what had happened to him and Jemma’s examination on the quin, it was clear that his Deathlok leg and eye had been obliterated in Hydra’s attempt to understand the technology. The only way to care for Mike would be to transfer him to yet another facility, as much as Fitz would have preferred to oversee the production himself. The Playground simply didn’t have the necessary equipment. 

They broke the news to Mike as gently as they could, and in truth he took it much better than Fitz had expected. What he hadn’t anticipated was his question about Bakshi, or Jemma’s answer. He knew what had happened as soon as she said it, his heart sinking. With everything that Bakshi had done, it wasn’t as though anyone on their side would be losing sleep over his death. But that didn’t mean it was any easier to know you had taken someone’s life, even when it was necessary. 

Waiting until they had drifted far enough from Mike and out of earshot from the other agents in the area, Fitz took Jemma by the elbow and leaned in to whisper, “Hey, are y’ all right? Do y’, uh, did y’ want t’ talk about what happened?” 

Jemma had been doing a good job of putting everything that had happened out of her mind by focusing on taking care of Mike and Lincoln, but Fitz taking her aside brought it all rushing back to the forefront. For a brief moment she thought about playing it off, pretending like she didn’t know what he was talking about, but she knew he would see right through her.

Swallowing, she turned into him, lowering her voice. “It was me,” she whispered, ducking her head. “I--I killed him. I meant to hit Ward, but--it was him.” She shuddered with revulsion at the memory of what had happened, and the shame and anger she felt at herself for missing. “I failed.”

Fitz swallowed heavily, not entirely sure how to respond to that. He placed a careful hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently as he leaned into Jemma in the hope that being near would be enough while he put his thoughts in order. 

“Y’ didn't fail, Jemma.” He brought his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “It wasn't what y’ set out t’ do, but maybe it just wasn't the right time. And Bakshi… Bakshi was a slimy git who would have turned on us first chance. We're probably safer now that he's gone.”

Jemma felt absolutely no love lost over Bakshi’s death--Fitz was right, he was a terrible man who had done horrible things, and the world was a better place without him in it. But that didn’t negate the fact that she _had_ failed in what she’d set out to do, and it left a bitter, acrid feeling in the pit of her stomach. She shook her head stiffly, even as she stepped a little closer to Fitz.

“No,” she whispered. “I _did_ fail. I tried to kill him, Fitz. But I didn’t. The next terrible thing he does is on me.”

Jemma’s quiet words took the air out of Fitz’ lungs. He hated the idea that she would blame herself for Ward’s actions, even if it was a knee jerk reaction in an emotional moment. He turned Jemma toward him, cupping her face in his hand. It was a more intimate pose than Fitz would like to take in the lab, but he needed the point of contact with her, hoping it would be enough to show her how earnest he was. 

“Hey, no,” he murmured, ducking closer to her. “Ward is responsible for Ward. Y’ can’t take that on yourself. I mean it, Jemma. Y’ aren’t responsible for the actions of a mad man.” 

Jemma licked her lips and looked down as Fitz palmed her cheek, not quite able to meet his eyes. Logically, she accepted his words, but her heart was another matter. All she could think was that she had let herself down, and through that, she had let the team down--especially Fitz.

“I made a promise,” she said. “And I meant it. I really did.” She thought back to the conviction that had burned in her blood as she’d looked him in the eye and said it, as he was being escorted out of the Playground that day. She remembered how it had simmered quietly in the back of her mind in the weeks and months that had followed. How unlike her it was, to wish so much for a person to die when she cared so much about life and the sanctity of it, how one of her own life’s great drives was to preserve and protect. But she wanted Ward to die, and she wanted to be the one to end him. She could still see the look in his eyes as he told her that she’d changed, and that he was disappointed in her. Had her desire for revenge really changed her that much, made her into a different, worse person?

She didn’t think so. She felt her need had been righteous. But now, she wasn’t so sure.

She let out a shuddering breath. Her emotions were scattered, and she didn’t know how to feel. “I took it upon myself to make sure he would never hurt anyone else again,” she said quietly, firmly. “And I let him get away. It _is_ on me, Fitz. The next person he hurts...it’ll be my fault.” She carefully pulled away from Fitz’s hold. “Excuse me. I...I should go see how Lincoln is doing.” She turned to go back to the room where Skye’s friend was lying on a hospital bed, stabilized now and being monitored by medical equipment.

Fitz let her go, albeit reluctantly, and watched as she tended to Lincoln. It hurt him more than he could say to see Jemma take that much on herself, but he also realized that pushing now would only make things more tense. Better to let Jemma sit with it and talk to him when she was ready, whenever that may be. 

He returned to his work bench to try to sort through more of the data, but found that he kept looking over toward Jemma. She flitted between Lincoln, who was still knocked out, and Mike, as though keeping them stable would atone for the fact she hadn’t managed to kill Ward. As much as he understood where she was coming from, Fitz worried that Jemma would let it consume her if she wasn’t careful. So he settled on keeping a careful eye on her, only stopping her when he had a question about what, exactly, she wanted the facility Mike would be transferred to doing where his health care was concerned. 

Even with the madness of Ultron and what had happened in Sokovia, it didn’t escape Fitz’ attention that Skye stayed at Lincoln’s bedside, monitoring him even more intently than Jemma was. Something deeper was going on with their friend and the stranger, and he took advantage of a quieter moment to try to pump his girlfriend for information. 

“Do y’ think she’ll stay once he wakes up?” Fitz nodded toward Lincoln’s room, where Skye could be seen sitting at the head of the bed. 

Jemma shook her head, turning to look at their friend through the glass wall. “She told me she wanted to take him home,” she said, twisting her hands together. “Whatever that means. She won’t say much else about it. Not to me, anyway.” She gave Fitz a wan smile. “I get the feeling he came from wherever it was she went after she disappeared from the retreat. I wish she _would_ tell us. I don’t know why she’s being so secretive.”

A beep interrupted her musing, and she turned to look behind her. Agent 33, or Kara Palamas, was sitting on a stool where she had just completed having a brain scan performed. She’d arrived at the Playground with Ward, a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was captured by Hydra and brainwashed to do their bidding. She’d fallen in with Ward after escaping Hydra’s clutches and, by all appearances, seemed to be in love with the man. Jemma begged to differ, but she wasn’t going to say it out loud. One of Ward’s conditions of working with them was that they try to reverse the brainwashing that Hydra had inflicted on her.

Jemma took a look at the results of Kara’s brain scan on her tablet and smiled. “Your brain scans look rather normal, considering,” she said. “You’ll still have some memory gaps, obviously, but any part of the Hydra indoctrination that was affecting your actions is gone. Your mind is your own again.”

Kara sagged with relief, looking grateful beyond words. “Thank you, both of you.” She took in a deep breath. “Honestly, I think knowing Bakshi has gone has helped more than anything. You know as well as I do what a monster he was.”

Jemma bit her lip, shifting a little uncomfortably, and glanced sideways at Fitz. “Yes, I do.”

“You were undercover at Hydra with Agent Morse, weren’t you?” Kara asked.

Looking back at her, Jemma shrugged. “Well, sort of. I didn’t know she was there at the time. She had really dark hair--”

Suddenly, the lights flickered. They all looked around, until their eyes landed on Lincoln, who was struggling to sit up in bed, looking a little wild-eyed. Skye was talking him down, soothing him with her hands on his chest. She’d mentioned to Jemma that he had powers, but she hadn’t elaborated. Perhaps it had to do with electricity?

Jemma looked at Fitz. “Should I go see if I can help…?” 

He’d been ready to give her the okay when the flickering stopped. Fitz looked over again and saw Skye, her hands on Lincoln’s shoulders, easing him back toward the bed. One look at the man’s face was all Fitz needed to know they wouldn’t be welcome in the room. As it was, he was a bit surprised there wasn’t more shouting, given the scowl Lincoln was wearing. He shook his head at Jemma instead, saying, “I think Skye’s got a good handle on it. Maybe we should just keep on here, yeah?”

Fitz was knee deep in his work, trying to understand just how the Hydra brainwashing technology had worked on Agent Palamas and just nearly there when the Playground’s alarms went off. They cut out nearly as soon as they went on, telling every agent to be on notice but that the threat wasn’t imminent. Fitz glanced across the lab to where Jemma was still working with Agent 33 and caught the same worried look on her face. It could be anything, with Ward on the loose and a few hundred other Hydra toadies ready to take up the cause once more. 

An hour or so passed and things went back to relatively normal, until a pair of heavily armed agents came into the lab. The stationed themselves on either side of Palamas, and after a few quiet words to Jemma, escorted the other woman out of the lab entirely. Unable to squash his curiosity, Fitz made a beeline to his girlfriend and asked, “What was that all about?”

Jemma watched them go with a frown on her face. “I’m not sure, entirely,” she said, folding her arms. “They’re taking her down to Vault C. I think it’s both for her protection and also because it’s suspected she may be a sleeper agent. Which I don’t understand, because her brain scans show she’s been cleared of any brainwashing, but…” She shook her head. “The decision wasn’t left up to me.”

It wasn’t long after that it was discovered they’d found a way to track the man who had brought Skye back to the Playground, thus enabling them to locate where she had been taken in the first place. Gonzales wanted to go there and meet with the Inhuman leader, a woman who turned out to be Skye’s birth mother (which had shocked Jemma when she learned the news). Jemma was asked to come along in order to start cataloguing the other Inhumans there for the Index, a task she was not particularly looking forward to, and not only because she had a new appreciation for the effect it could have on a person after doing it to Skye.

She had a few brief moments while packing her bag to say goodbye to Fitz, assuring him she would be okay and stealing a quick, soft kiss before she had to report to the hangar to board a quinjet and fly away to Afterlife.

Fitz stayed in the lab at first, uncertain he’d be able to watch Jemma fly away into certain danger without losing his nerve. Instead he wandered over to Coulson’s office with Hunter, seeking out the company of the few others at the Playground who had been left out of the op. The conversation wasn’t exactly productive, or relaxing, though with the three of them bouncing their fears and worries off the other as they waited to hear from the field teams. Something told Fitz that Coulson didn’t appreciate their company as much as he and Hunter did his, given the looks he was shooting them, but as he never told them to actually shove off, he kept himself planted there. He didn’t want to risk missing anything about Jemma. 

Things seemed to go smoothly at first, with Gonzales being welcomed into the Inhuman compound for a meeting with Skye’s mother. Fitz sat there, bouncing his knee impatiently, counting the minutes down until news came through. The first sign that something was up came when May called in, telling them that the Inhumans had handed Cal over. Fitz’ brow furrowed at that. From what he’d seen in Hawaii, Skye’s father wasn’t what he’d call stable; if he was with the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, chaos was likely to follow. 

Jemma spent her first hours at the Inhuman compound trying to assess and index the people there. It wasn’t easy; no one there was happy to see her, and they weren’t forthcoming about their histories and abilities. She tried to stick close to Lincoln, the one remotely friendly face she had there, but even he was wary and distrustful of her. She was taking a short break, talking to Skye and Lincoln a short distance away from the building where Jiaying was meeting with Gonzales, when they heard gunshots.

Skye’s head whipped around. “Mom?” she cried, starting to run for the building. “Mom!”

Jemma and Lincoln ran after her, and Jemma was dismayed to see Jiaying emerge from the building clutching her shoulder, blood streaming from between her fingers. She collapsed before Skye could reach her; her daughter dropped to her knees at her side and frantically dragged her into her lap, checking her over. “Mom, what happened?!” she cried.

“Gonzales, he tried...he said that Inhumans should be exterminated,” she gasped, looking pained. Jemma looked around. A crowd was gathering, including Gordon, the man who had brought Skye back to S.H.I.E.L.D. Lincoln shared a grim look with him, but Jemma only worried. That didn’t sound like Gonzales at all.

“Get everyone to safety,” Jiaying told Lincoln. He nodded, standing and telling all the people gathered to follow him. Concerned, Jemma knelt by Jiaying’s side.

“Let me take a look at that,” she said, reaching out to her.

Jiaying shrank away from her. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has done enough,” she said coldly. “We have our own doctors.”

Skye looked up at her. “You should get out of here,” she said to her.

Jemma frowned. “What about you?” she asked. When Skye hesitated, looking down at her mother, that was all the answer she needed. She didn’t want to leave her, but things were about to spiral out of control, fast, and Coulson and May needed to be updated on what had just happened. She stood, telling the two agents standing beside her to follow her back to the quinjets. 

When she reached May’s quin, she ran on at full speed, seeing the older agent already on a video call with Coulson, Agent Weaver standing right behind her. “Agent May, sir,” she said, pushing into view of the camera. “There’s been gunfire. Skye’s mother has been shot, allegedly by Gonzales. I’m afraid it’s going to get worse.” Her heart leapt when she saw Fitz on the video screen, standing behind Coulson, but her focus was on her boss.

“What about Gonzales? Where is he?” he asked.

Jemma grimaced. “I don’t know, sir.”

“Got what he always wanted,” Fitz muttered, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. If that man had put Jemma in harm’s way…

“No,” Coulson shot back, voice firm. “Find Gonzales. Get everyone out. I don’t want to escalate the situation til we find out what we’re dealing with.”

Fitz watched as May left the quinjet to carry out Coulson’s orders, his heart thumping against his ribs. He wanted nothing more than to offer Jemma some kind of comfort but there was no way he could with all of the eyes on them. All he could do was watch her and hope she knew he was willing everything to come out all right. 

He began to fidget with his tablet as the reports rolled in, that a quinjet had been stolen and fired on the compound, that Skye had attacked May, knocking her out with her Inhuman powers. That Gonzales was likely dead, given that he hadn’t been evacuated to a quin and that May had been refused when she asked to see him. As if that bit of news wasn’t shocking enough, even worse was the news that Bobbi’s jet had never arrived on-site. Hunter went pale at that, tearing out of Coulson’s office without saying a word to anyone. 

Fitz knew exactly where he was going and followed Hunter out of the room. Jemma was safe for the time being, and he trusted that May would get her out of any sticky situations. If he couldn’t actively help the love of his life, then he could help Hunter help his. He found Hunter in the communications area and dutifully sat down and began pulling up the flight records from the quinjets. 

“Her phone’s not picking up, not even voicemail!” Hunter spat the words out, clearly frustrated. 

Fitz didn’t have better news, but he told him anyway. “Flight records suggest that Bobbi’s quinjet left before the other three. There’s no indication o’ a crash.” Fitz paused for a moment, hoping Hunter would appreciate that bit of good news before plowing on. “The transponder’s offline. Uh, it’s possible that somebody disconnected it, though.” That was not so good news. If someone had disconnected the transponder, it meant they didn’t want Bobbi - or themselves - to be found. 

“Forget about the plane, can you pull up the --”

“Footage o’ Bobbi, o’ the base… Before she left -- good idea.” Fitz nodded and went to work. 

“You know,” Hunter chided, leaning over his shoulder, “I am capable of finishing my own…”

“Sentences,” Fitz filled in, nodding in understanding. “Yes, you are. I’m sorry. Too used t’ workin’ with Jemma.”


	22. Chapter 22

Jemma, meanwhile, was embroiled in trying to figure out what had happened with the quinjet that had fired on the compound, what had happened to Gonzales, and who was to blame. She wasn’t entirely unconvinced that Gonzales  _ wasn’t  _ at fault, given his history of attacking bases unprovoked, but Weaver--who had gone back to her carrier--and Coulson seemed to think otherwise. May was just stressed and angry. Weaver wanted to retaliate with force, but Coulson had no interest in starting a war, and for that Jemma was grateful. He ordered them to return to base, bringing Skye’s father with them.

She was very relieved to walk back into the Playground, but only just so; Cal was being vague and enigmatic and unhelpful. Coulson had him taken to the lab, and Jemma pulled her boss aside before he could follow. She was concerned that Cal was more of a Trojan horse rather than the gift horse that he professed to be; he’d ingested three vials of an unknown substance on the quinjet and had refused to tell her what it was or what it was used for, just that he’d made it himself. She told Coulson she was going to analyze the residue in the lab, and hurried off to get started.

She didn’t see any sign of Fitz in the lab when she got there, which was disappointing, but she told herself he was likely busy with work of his own somewhere, what with everything going on with the breakdown between S.H.I.E.L.D. and Jiaying’s people. She had more than enough to do with figuring out what the hell was in the concoction Cal had made for himself, anyway.

Fitz was still busy with Hunter, trying to get his friend to understand what he was saying. He pointed out May, or rather someone who looked remarkably like her, leaving the base with Bobbi. Hunter made a waspish comment about a car of his Bobbi had destroyed - Fitz made a mental note to ask for the details of that particular run in later - and looked at him like he was stupid. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, Fitz pulled up the footage time stamped ten minutes later. 

“See. That’s May, leavin’ the base. Again.” 

“It’s Agent 33.” Hunter’s eyes lit up with the realization, but Fitz was only confused. 

“What would she want with Bobbi?”

Apparently his question didn’t matter much to Hunter. The other man took off, shouting something about needing to tell Coulson, leaving Fitz to scramble, working double time to pull the video up on his tablet as he chased after his friend. 

In the midst of her analysis of Cal’s strange brew, Jemma was pulled to Coulson’s office for a debrief with May on what happened at Afterlife. He was now convinced that the whole incident with Jiaying was staged, that she shot herself to frame Gonzales and stole the quinjet that fired on the building he was in. Jemma didn’t understand why Skye’s mother would orchestrate something like that though, except that destroying the building was either to kill Gonzales or destroy any evidence of foul play against him.

May was grim. “Well, whatever she did worked,” she said, arms crossed. “Every Inhuman there now believes that S.H.I.E.L.D. attacked their leader and declared war.”

“Including Skye,” Jemma said quietly, her stomach sinking.

“Mark it down as the second time S.H.I.E.L.D. got played today,” Hunter muttered, sweeping into the room with Fitz on his heels. Jemma’s heart jumped at the sight of him, but the look on his and Hunter’s faces stayed any joy she might have felt.

Fitz glanced at Jemma briefly, which was all he needed for the tension he’d felt since she’d left the Playground to drain out of him. She was safe, and he could better focus on what else needed to be done now. “Figured out what happened t’ Agent Morse,” he filled in, looking at Coulson. “She left on a quinjet with you.” His eyes slid over to May. With a little shrug he turned and cued up the video feed on the giant screen in Coulson’s office. 

He showed them exactly what he and Hunter had discovered - Bobbi leaving the base with Agent 33-as-May, followed by footage of May herself leaving 10 minutes later. They caught on immediately, with May practically growling in frustration over what happened. 

“I didn’t leave with Bobbi. That’s--”

“Agent 33,” Coulson supplied, eyes darkening. 

“She killed her guard, stashed him under a blanket in Vault C, then boarded a quinjet posin’ as May.” 

Fitz spared a moment to be grateful for the fact that he hadn’t made that grisly discovery himself. A junior agent had stopped him and Hunter on their way to Coulson’s office, filling them in on the details. Even hearing about how she’d murdered the woman sent to watch her had chilled Fitz to the bone. He’d had enough of finding dead bodies in their supposedly secure bases to last him a lifetime, and would be more than happy to get out after this little escapade was over. 

“But why? I don’t understand,” Jemma said, confused. 

“The quinjet’s transponder went dark outside a small town in Spain,” Hunter said, hands on his hips. “I’m gonna need a pilot.”

“With pleasure,” May said grimly, already headed for the door. Hunter turned to follow her.

Jemma was sent back to the lab to finish working on the analysis of the strange brew Cal had made for himself. By the time Coulson came in to check for an update, she had an entire laundry list of awful and disgusting ingredients for him to look at. It seemed that Skye’s father had made himself an ill-conceived attempt at a super-strength serum, which was very concerning to her, as any efforts at that type of thing had not gone well, aside from Steve Rogers. Even worse, one vial of the stuff should have been enough to kill a man, and he had taken three.

Something very bad was going to happen, and soon.

And it did. Cal collapsed where he was being watched by a few armed agents, quickly going into shock, his heartbeat erratic. In the rush to get him medical attention, Jemma called for him to be brought into the lab and laid on one of the hospital beds there. He was carried in by an agent and Fitz, who had come to check on her, followed by Coulson. Jemma had the defibrillator ready to go, and immediately shocked him with the paddles as soon as he was stretched out on the bed.

She checked his vitals on the tablet Fitz was holding. “No response,” he said. She blew out a breath and rushed over to a cabinet of supplies.

“We can’t lose him,” Coulson said.

“I thought you said he wanted to kill us!” Fitz exclaimed.

“He’s Skye’s father, we have to try,” Coulson shot back.

Jemma turned back to them. “I’m doing what I can. Get me an adrenaline injector, one milligram.”

Fitz reached over to get her the required dosage, handing it off to her. Jemma leaned over Cal, preparing to inject it into a vein in the side of his neck, but the second she stuck the syringe into him, his eyes snapped open and he sat upright before crying out and convulsing, falling over the side of the bed. Jemma gasped and stumbled back, bumping up against Coulson’s shoulder, her eyes wide with surprise.

The three of them stared at each other, shocked by what had happened but too wary of Skye’s father to go see why he was making gurgling noises. Coulson had just gathered his nerve to inch closer when a hand - swollen, with oddly pointed nails - shot over the edge of the bed, digging into the bedclothes. Another followed it and soon Cal - it  _ had  _ to be Cal although it looked nothing like him - pulled himself off the floor. 

Leaning his weight on the gurney, he gave them each a garish grin and asked, “You were looking for a monster?”

Coulson called for the room to be cleared and Fitz could hear the quiet, steady steps of the other agents fleeing the room. A part of him wanted to run, too, but he held himself together with a reminder that he had been in the field and faced stranger things. He could face a man and his half-assed attempt at a super serum. Although he did take a step behind Coulson, and reached to pull Jemma into the lab along with him, wanting to put as much space between her and Cal as possible. 

After declaring the adrenaline had been the last thing he’d needed, Cal set about tearing apart the sick room, flipping the bed over its end. Fitz knew how heavy that thing was, and it made his stomach turn unpleasantly to see how easily it turned over. Coulson slammed the blast-resistant doors on him, but they shook badly when Cal hit them, leaving Fitz certain they wouldn’t hold for long. He turned to grab ICERS, handing one to Jemma and Coulson before checking his own was ready to go. 

He burst through, but despite all three of them firing multiple ICER rounds into his stomach, didn’t go down. All he did was make a quip about losing the feeling in his legs as he advanced on the three agents. 

“Get out of here!” Coulson barked, keeping his weapon trained on Cal. 

“No, sir-” Fitz hesitated, not wanting to leave him alone with a man who could - and likely would - kill him as soon as anything else. But Coulson ordered him out of the room again, his voice even firmer this time, and Fitz knew it wasn’t a time to disobey an order. Tucking his ICER into his waistband, he reached for Jemma’s wrist, towing her along with him. 

“What the hell do we do now?” he asked, panting a bit as they hurried along. He was looking for anywhere that might be defensible, but with the way Cal had broken through that glass, Fitz didn’t have high hopes. “How the hell can we stop a man that’s on whatever he took?” 

“I don’t know!” Jemma cried, chancing a look behind her. “I can’t think of anything that isn’t lethal. Maybe--maybe if we could lure him somewhere, get him somewhere we could contain him somehow--but  _ how _ \--” Back behind them, she heard a distant crash. “Maybe the hangar?”

Fitz nodded, slowing as they turned a corner. “The hangar’s a good place t’ start.” In fact, it could be the only place to even think of going up against someone with chemically formulated super strength. It was the only place in the Playground that could be anywhere near too heavy for him to chuck about like playthings. “Let’s go there.”

They picked up their pace, trotting toward the hangar, only to receive the fright of their lives when Coulson came bursting through a hallway just ahead of them. Fitz yelped, but recovered as he skidded to a stop. “Sir, what’s goin’-”

“He’s back there, somewhere,” Coulson answered, not bothering to wait for Fitz to finish the question. “Doesn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, though. Any thoughts on how to stop him?”

“We were headin’ t’ the hangar,” Fitz explained, looking down the hall past Coulson. “It’s the only place where we might be able t’ trap him, between the containers and vehicles.”

“Good thinking.” Coulson’s face lit up, and Fitz knew he had just hit on a plan of some sort, and while he was happy to have some kind of direction, he had a sinking feeling he wouldn’t be thrilled with what they’d be asked to do. “Lure him to the hangar. Get him against one of the load bearing walls, something he can’t break through without bringing everything down on his head. Once you do that, get out of the way.”

That was all he left them with before tearing off again, leaving Fitz to look at Jemma helplessly. “Well then,” he sighed, “I guess that makes us the bait. C’mon, let’s go find Cal.”

Finding him wasn’t difficult. All they had to do was follow the sounds of destruction as he smashed every possible thing he could. Apparently Cal didn’t feel there was much of a rush in killing them, as he was doing a rather thorough job of destroying the communications center when they found him. Fitz peeked around the door frame, and seeing Cal was fully occupied with the incoming message from the Iliad, gave himself a moment to look at Jemma. 

“Ready?” he asked, as much for himself as for her. Jemma took a breath, looked him in the eye, and nodded. Fitz did the same, steeling himself, before he jumped into the doorway. “Jemma, run! Run!” He locked eyes with Cal as he gestured for Jemma to start running, grabbing her arm and taking off with her as Cal made for the door. 

Jemma ran as fast as she could, holding on tightly to Fitz’s hand. As soon as she was within reach of the door to the hangar, she hit the button to open it, then pulled Fitz through it after her. Once they were through, she looked behind her to see Cal still lumbering after them. Glancing around the hangar, she sighted Coulson waiting in an SUV not too far away, and immediately knew his plan

“Come on!” she called to Fitz.

Together, they ran toward the wall, in front of the SUV. Cal followed them, and just as he passed in front too, Coulson slammed on the gas pedal, peeling forward and crashing into him, knocking him back and pinning him between the wall and the front of the vehicle.

All Jemma could do was stare. A hit like that should have killed him, or at the very least seriously injured him, but there Cal was, awake and breathing, and struggling to break free. But Coulson had effectively contained him, and was currently bargaining with him, talking him down and promising to take him back to Skye if he would cooperate.

Jemma let out a breath and looked at Fitz. “Well, that worked out much better than I expected, yeah?” she said, looking incredulous and more than a little relieved.

Fitz nodded, huffing out a breath and even daring to give her a little bit of a smile. He watched as Coulson engaged the parking brake and came around the side to speak to Cal, who was busy struggling against the weight of the SUV. Fitz was more than a little alarmed to see the vehicle shift a bit away from the way as he pushed at it, despite the way it rolled back into him. 

“Fitz, Simmons, will this hold him?”

Coulson must have noticed the rocking, too. Fitz glanced around the hangar and saw the hydraulic ram. “That,” he said, pointing at it. “Use the ram along with the SUV. If that won’t hold him…” Fitz trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought. The idea that maybe they couldn’t contain Cal wasn’t one he liked much at all. 

“All right, get out of here.” Coulson pointed them toward the door as he went to move the ram into place. “Cal and I need to have a private chat.”

“Sir, don’t you need-”

“I need you in the lab, Fitz. Both of you. Go tell the others things are contained and to get back to work.”

Coulson’s tone brokered no room for argument, so they beat a quick path out of the hangar and back to the lab, only stopping long enough to tell the first agents they found that things were back under control. Trusting that telling that one person would be enough to get the word out to everyone else, Fitz kept moving toward the lab. He had no idea what Coulson thought he was going to pull off, or what he and Jemma needed to focus on first, but they could at least start by cleaning up the lab. 

Jemma directed some of the junior techs and agents to start cleaning up the broken glass and smashed beakers and containers, while she and Fitz oversaw taking inventory of the larger equipment and stations that had been broken. It didn’t look good--Cal had done a thorough job of wrecking the lab, and she wept internally to think about the cost, labor, and effort to replace everything.

After some indeterminate amount of time, Coulson reappeared with Cal in tow, along with two heavily-armed guards. Jemma paused in what she was doing, automatically reaching out for Fitz, who was standing nearby, but Cal looked much more like himself, almost calm. He took a seat without any complaint or fuss, and even smiled somewhat dreamily up at the two guards who hovered over him.

“Simmons, I need you to get a read on his vitals,” Coulson said as he approached her. “And check to make sure that serum is out of his system. I don’t want any more surprises from him.”

Jemma nodded. “I’ll get right on it, sir.”

She went to fetch her tablet and the tools she’d need, then approached Cal with a certain amount of apprehension. He just gazed at her serenely, and didn’t say anything as she got to work. It didn’t take very long for the results to start coming in and those, at least, were somewhat reassuring.

“Well, his physical changes have improved,” she reported to Coulson as he walked by.

Cal smiled slyly up at her as he twisted in his seat. “Careful,” he said. “I’m a married man.”

Jemma rolled her eyes. She was very much taken herself, and didn’t need creepy middle-aged men making flagrant innuendos at her when she was just doing her job.

He turned to look over at Coulson. “Sorry, Phil,” he said, gesturing around the wrecked lab and not sounding very sorry at all. “This looks expensive.”

Coulson gave him a dry look. “We’re keeping a tab.”

Fitz scowled a bit at Cal’s comment, knowing full well it wasn’t what it sounded like, but it irked him all the same. A married man didn’t need to make those comments, as far as he was concerned. Thankfully, they got a notice from the carrier and he was able to keep focused on his work. The distress signal had been expanded to broadcast to all channels, highly unusual given that Weaver knew the Playground would be the only outpost listening for them. 

“Jiaying used Cal’s distraction to take over that ship in minutes,” Coulson mused, almost to himself. 

“Yeah, it’s intimidatin’,” Fitz answered, his gut curdling at the thought of having to go up against an entire ship of Inhumans. He’d heard Mack’s story about retaking the Iliad from Hydra, and they hadn’t had super powers. Retaking the carrier would be no easy task. 

“You get May and Hunter on the line? We’ll need every asset we’ve got to shut these Inhumans down.”

Fitz shook his head. “I tried, sir, but, uh, their team’s already gone dark.”

Coulson sighed and put his hands on his hips, looking around the room before looking back to Fitz and Jemma. He had the look of a man who was about to make a decision he didn’t like, not at all. 

“All right, it’s just us then. Take an hour, then get back to me with solutions.”

Fitz went back to his station, his mind trying to puzzle out how to stop a force that could literally be anywhere whenever it wanted thanks to having a teleporter. He knew that any teleportation had its roots in physics - no matter how theoretical it may be. Certain he hit on a solution, Fitz went to work modifying his field generators so they could act instead as a quantum-field disruptor. Hopefully with that in their pocket, they’d be able to neutralize Gordon and the rest of the Inhuman threat. 

Jemma stayed in the lab, continuing to oversee Cal coming off his self-inflicted drugs and helping the techs keep cleaning up the damage he’d caused. They were making good progress when Coulson came rushing in, his face ashen. She looked up, alarmed. “Sir? What is it?” she asked.

“It’s Bobbi,” he said grimly. “We just made contact with May and Hunter’s team. They found her, but she’s wounded, and it’s not looking good. They’re on their way back now as fast as they can go.” He looked over at the remains of what had been their primary med bay. “This doesn’t look good, either. What can you do?”

Jemma took in a deep breath, trying to sort her thoughts over the heart-dropping dismay that Bobbi was seriously injured. “I can put something together if I start now.”

“Good.” Coulson nodded back. “Get started.” He turned to walk toward the two guards who were keeping a watch over Cal. “You two, keep your eye on him and make sure he stays out of the way so Agent Simmons can work.”

Jemma gathered a few techs and worked as quickly as she could to put together an emergency triage-dash-surgery room in one of the mostly-empty storage rooms right off the lab, not knowing the extent of Bobbi’s injuries but preparing for the worst. It was difficult, sorting through the rubble of the med bay, but they had enough supplies still in storage that by the time they were through, she was certain they would be able to handle whatever came their way and hopefully give Bobbi the care she needed.

She was already in her lab coat, hair pinned back and latex gloves on, when Coulson and Fitz came to check on her progress. “With the lab destroyed and unusable, this is our best option to make it work.”

“Any update from May on Bobbi’s condition?” Coulson asked.

Jemma nodded. “Yes, she radioed in. They’ve slowed the bleeding and she’s holding on...but barely.” She glanced at Fitz, seeing her grim expression reflected in his own. “We’ll see.”

“Is Cal stable enough to join the mission on the carrier?”

She blinked at him. “Why would you want Cal on the mission?” she asked, just as Fitz said, “Sir, I don’t think that’s a very good idea--”

A commotion in the doorway made them all turn their heads. A team was rushing in with Bobbi on a gurney, led by May, shouting out injury description and vital stats. Jemma hurried to join them, her eyes taking in Bobbi’s state as she was wheeled up next to the bed. She didn’t look good at all, and her vitals were falling fast. Coulson and Fitz moved out of the way as she started barking out instructions, ordering the nurses and techs to get Bobbi prepped for immediate surgery. Everything else fell away then as she got to work trying to save the life of her teammate and friend, and it would be a good couple of hours before she was through with surgery and getting Bobbi stabilized.

Fitz watched Jemma roll Bobbi away, his heart in his throat. If he felt this way, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what Hunter was going through, and when he looked over at his friend he thought that maybe he didn’t quite know, either. Hunter looked as though he’d been deflated, shoulders sagging further as Bobbi disappeared from sight. Wanting to do something, but afraid of saying the wrong thing, Fitz reached out and squeezed the other man’s shoulder lightly, just enough to let him know he was there, before Hunter was ushered away to get cleaned up and wait for the surgery to finish. 

As for him, Fitz buried himself back in the lab, both because he knew that the quantum-disrupters needed to be as close to perfect as possible and to gather himself for the coming battle. He wasn’t blind to the situation. With Bobbi out of commission and Hunter far too compromised emotionally, he’d be going in with Coulson. May might join them, but he would be needed to set them up in the field. The work was too delicate to just give detailed instructions and hope for the best. 

Once he was satisfied that his tech was as good as it was going to get before having to leave, Fitz carefully packed them up and went to the locker room. He checked each piece of his tac gear, wanting to make sure he was going into the field as protected as possible and leaving nothing to chance. When that was done, he began to pull everything on, piece by piece, trying to clear his mind and not think of all the terrible things that might happen while he was away. 

It took Jemma a long moment to take a deep breath and release the tension she’d been holding in once she was finally through with Bobbi and she was stabilized, sedated and resting after her surgery. She was still critical, far from being out of the woods, but they had done everything they could for her at the moment, and all they could do now was continue to monitor her and provide her with the best care they were able. 

She turned away to strip off her latex gloves and bin them, then looked over as someone else moved into the room. It was Hunter, his hands shoved in his jean pockets and his shoulders hunched, his face a pensive mask, eyes locked on Bobbi. Everyone else in the room may as well have not even existed. He faltered at the foot of her bed, taking in the bruising on her face and how still her body was, and something about him just seemed to crumple. Jemma didn’t think she’d ever seen Hunter look so diminished and defeated before, and it was like a blow to the gut to see him that way. It just felt  _ wrong _ . She approached him slowly, not wanting to spook him, and hesitated before putting a careful hand on his shoulder. He didn’t even move or blink or acknowledge her. She squeezed once, gently, before turning and stripping off her lab coat. She needed to see Fitz.

Jemma knew he was getting ready to leave for the mission, so there were only a few places he could be. When their bunk turned up empty, she headed for the locker room, and that was where she found him.

She paused in the doorway, her hands twisting anxiously at her sides. His back was to her, loading things into his backpack, and her stomach suddenly churned as she thought of all the things that could go horrifically wrong.

“You’ll be careful?” she blurted, startling them both. When Fitz twisted around to look at her, his mouth half-open in surprise, she rushed to add, “because I just saw Hunter with Bobbi, and it made me realize--I just thought--”

Then she crossed the room to him in a few quick steps, her hands coming up to hover at his arm, just shy of clutching at him. “I couldn’t help but think of everything that might go wrong on the carrier,” she babbled. “And I want you to be safe. If something happened to you--” 

“Jemma.”

Fitz whispered her name, both to keep her from spiraling down into her own anxiety and because he needed to say it. Needed that connection with her, that brief moment of intimacy before he left. Seeing how hesitant she seemed to touch him, he closed the gap himself, cupping her face in one hand as the other came around her waist.

“I'll-” he began, clutching her a bit closer as he realized he wasn't sure what to say. “I'm a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. I'll do my duty, but I'll be careful, too. I have somethin’ t’ come home t’. I don't plan on dyin’ today. Promise.” He'd meant to comfort her, but his words seemed to have the opposite effect. Horrified, Fitz tried to fix his misstep, only to have Coulson call for him from the hall.

Unable and unwilling to leave it at that, Fitz leaned in for a kiss instead. It was sloppy, driven more by raw passion than any kind of finesse, but he was satisfied that it got his point across. He poured himself into that kiss, breaking away only when it was absolutely necessary. 

“I'll come back,” he promised, blue eyes unfocused as he took in Jemma's face. “I promise, baby girl, I'll come back.” He gave himself one more moment to look his fill, and then he was off, chasing Coulson down the hall and toward the hangar. 

Jemma instinctively leaned into Fitz even as he pulled away, her fingers snagging on the velcro straps of his Kevlar vest. “I love you,” she choked out as he turned to leave, and she had one last glimpse of his precious face before he turned to follow Coulson to the hangar. She stayed where she was for a few moments, overwhelmed with emotions triggered by the fallout of seeing one of her friends so gravely injured, feeling the imprint of Fitz’s kiss on her lips. And it seemed like she had nothing to do but wait for hours for him to come back home to her.


	23. Chapter 23

Jemma would do her best to fill the hours she waited for Fitz with productive work so she didn’t waste her time spinning her mental wheels in anxious futility. First, she went back to the lab and finished up the last of the work cleaning up the damage Cal had done during his rampage. Once that was done, she checked on Bobbi again, and Hunter, who was still sitting like a silent sentinel at her bedside. Then she spent some time manning the radios and communications, but that ended up being fruitless--all communication coming from the _Iliad_ had ceased, and Jemma knew the more time she spent staring at silent channels, the more she would worry and fret. She tasked a junior agent with monitoring the channels and updating her if any news came through.

Then she forced herself to take some time for herself and eat. She’d been up for hours by that time with no break, and she needed to refuel. She tried to get Hunter to eat too, but he waved her off, saying he wasn’t hungry.

After that, there wasn’t much else left to really do besides wait. She cleaned the common area and organized the kitchen cupboard. She went back to her bunk and picked up all of Fitz’s laundry off the floor and put it in the basket to take and wash later. She even swept the area around the entrance to the hangar. She ended by trying to get Hunter to eat again, and when he wouldn’t, suggested that maybe he try to get some rest. When he insisted that he was fine where he was, Jemma dimly wondered if this was what she had been like when Fitz was in a coma. Remembering how important it had been to her to stay with him, she didn’t have the heart to get Hunter to leave Bobbi, so she brought him a mug of tea and left him be.

The hour was starting to grow late, and there was still no word from the _Iliad_. Jemma tried not to let her anxieties and worries get the best of her, but it was difficult, especially now when she and Fitz had so much to look forward to. They were going to strike out and start a new part of their lives together. It would be a bitter irony if the universe were to reach out now and snatch that happy future from them right when they were on the very brink of it.

Jemma took a radio with her out to the sofa in the common area, determined to stay awake and listen for any news, anything at all, but it had been an extremely long, taxing day, and without anything currently going to drive her adrenaline, exhaustion was starting to set in fast. She found herself dozing off on one end of the sofa, radio in hand, hoping against hope that Fitz would come back to her in one piece, safe and sound.

As he sat on the quinjet, Fitz replayed their kiss in his mind, preferring to focus on Jemma rather than what was waiting for them on the _Iliad_. He had belatedly realized that he hadn’t told her he’d loved her. Perhaps that had been a mistake, but it had felt too much like a final goodbye. If there was anything Fitz was certain of, this was not the end for him and Jemma. He was going to come back to her. They were going to build a life together, with a flat and a lab of their own. And maybe, in the near future, a pair of rings. 

Fitz was forced to push those thoughts aside though the closer they got, working to put all of his focus on the task at hand. Skye’s message came through as they landed, telling them that the terrigen crystals had been brought to the HVAC room. It didn’t take a genius level intellect to figure out what that meant: Jiaying planned to murder - or turn - every last S.H.I.E.L.D. crew member on that ship. Coulson and Fitz split off from May and the rest of the team to go there, certain that Jiaying would send Gordon there. She wouldn’t trust that job to anyone other than her right hand man.

They found Mack there, defending the crystals with nothing more than an axe. Coulson asked why, but Fitz knew the answer before Mack even opened his mouth: ricochets. With a man who could disappear at will, they’d risk doing more harm to themselves if they discharged their sidearms in here. Fitz rushed to set up the quantum field disrupters, picking strategic locations that would ensure they captured Gordon the next time he popped in. 

No sooner than he’d finished sticking them to the walls, Gordon literally popped in. Fitz had a moment of panic. The disrupters were up, but weren’t ready to be turned on. Mack and Coulson battled the Inhuman away from the crystals, but he disappeared before the device could be powered up. Thankfully the second time they were ready to go, and Fitz slammed the switch as soon as Gordon fully materialized. The Inhuman tried to escape, but the field disruptors did their job and kept him in the room, and vulnerable to any blows they might rain on him. 

Fitz tossed his tablet to the side and picked up a spare length of pipe, ready to take his turn swinging at Gordon. The man was clearly confused, glancing around the room for a way out. Finding none, he resorted to asking what they had done, and Fitz found a great deal of satisfaction in being able to quip, “Science, biatch,” before starting their attack. 

Gordon still attempted to teleport out, likely a reflex he couldn’t shake, but he always reappeared in the room. He fought like a mad man, desperate to get to the crystals, but they held him off, time and time again. Fitz felt every fiber of his being on alert, waiting for the next time he’d have to take a swing at Gordon. He leaned over just as the Inhuman disappeared, checking the latch on the case, before standing upright again. He felt the pipe under his arm give an odd shake and froze. 

For a moment, Fitz was afraid he’d been the one injured. He could feel the body of the other man behind him, his breath hot on his neck, and a warm stickiness that seeped through the lower part of his tac shirt. Blood. He knew it was blood, and for a moment was terrified it was somehow his own. Terrified, and terribly disappointed that he wouldn’t be keeping his promise to Jemma. 

But then he realized there was no pain, and slowly released the pipe, stepping away. Gordon had rematerialized around it, right through his abdomen. Fitz had killed him, without even meaning to, and he felt a moment of regret before remembering this man would have gladly killed him and everyone he’d ever held dear. 

It was only then that they realized Gordon had somehow gotten hold of a terrigen crystal. The thing slipped out of his grip as he fell, and it felt as though things went into slow motion. Fitz was too far to catch the thing, to keep it from breaking open and killing them all. He was going to die here, and he said a silent goodbye to Jemma as he braced for the inevitable. 

It never came. Coulson dove, slipping his hand beneath it just in time. His hand began to turn ashen as his skin came into contact with the metal from the obelisk, but Mack acted quickly. Using the ax in his hand, he took Coulson’s hand off, just at the forearm. The blood was terrible, but there was no time to think of that. They packed and bound the wound as best they could and herded him up to the main deck of the ship, desperate to get him on a quinjet and back to the Playground. 

Thankfully the rest of the team had met their objectives, neutralizing Jiaying and her Inhumans. They were able to get Coulson on the first quin back, complete with a medic who could better clean and stop the bleeding. Only when it became clear that Coulson wouldn’t die did Fitz allow himself to relax. 

Fitz had expected to see Jemma as soon as they arrived at the Playground, but it was another doctor instead. The medic handed Coulson off to him, and Fitz broke off to find Jemma, not even bothering to change first. She wasn’t in the med bay or the lab or their room, and he began to panic a bit when he couldn’t find her anywhere. Had she somehow been pulled into that craziness without him knowing? Had something happened? Questions began to swirl through his mind, coming faster and faster, until he ran into the commons. 

She was asleep, curled around a radio at one end of the sofa. His heart melted as the sight, and Fitz sank to his knees in front of her. “Jemma,” he whispered, brushing a gentle hand over her hair. “Jemma, wake up, baby girl. We need t’ get y’ into bed.” 

He could use some sleep, too, he realized, and planned on doing just that after he got Jemma into bed and washed himself up a bit. 

Jemma started awake with a jerk and a little gasp, her eyes going wide and round when she saw him. “Fitz,” she murmured, struggling to sit up a little straighter. “You’re--oh, I had the radio with me so I wouldn’t miss--but--you’re back.” Her hands came up to rest lightly against the front of his Kevlar. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah, I'm okay.” He brought a hand up to cover hers on his shoulder, squeezing her fingers a bit and pressing her closer. Fitz was thankful the tac gear was black. If Jemma saw his back, she wouldn't see Gordon's blood and worry. “We got 'em. Jiaying is dead. The Inhumans, the ones who weren't caught, ran off.” Fitz met her eyes and tried to smile, but was too exhausted to manage it properly. “What about y’? Were things here okay?”

She nodded, swallowing back a yawn. “Yes. Everything was very quiet, relatively speaking. I’ve been monitoring Bobbi. She’s holding on fine, resting. Hunter won’t leave her side.” She fell silent at that for a moment, thinking again about how she’d kept vigil at Fitz’s bedside, then leaned forward, swinging her feet over the front edge of the couch cushions. “Come on, let’s get you back to our bunk. You look knackered.” 

Fitz scoffed a bit at Jemma’s statement, but didn’t say anything. He was sure he looked worn down, but she certainly wasn’t any fresher. Fitz held back on saying anything though, merely rocking back onto his heels and standing so Jemma had enough room to get off the couch. He offered her his hand, and using it pulled her to stand next to him. He kept their fingers entwined as they left the commons, happy to just feel the press of her palm against his. 

“I need a shower before a nap,” he mused, sighing at the very thought. Fitz wasn’t sure he actually had the energy for a shower now that his adrenaline from the Iliad had worn off, but he knew he wouldn’t sleep comfortably with how sticky he was feeling. “A shower, cuddling, and a nap. That’s how I’m spendin’ my next 12 hours, at least.”

“Sounds lovely,” Jemma agreed, leading him through the corridors to their bunk. To her, a full-blown night’s rest rather than a nap sounded in order, but with the way things usually operated at the Playground, a nap might be all they’d be able to get before the next big thing came down the pipeline. 

She quickly keyed in the code to let them in the door, then tugged Fitz through. She let out a small sigh of relief once the door was shut and locked behind them; this was their sanctuary; their small slice of home, and she was grateful to be there with him again. Turning to face him, she dropped his hand and started pulling at the velcro straps on his vest, undoing them so she could get it off of him. “I bet you’ll be happy to get all of this off,” she murmured as she pulled the vest free, smiling tiredly at him.

Under different circumstances, Fitz’ mind would have been running wild at the sight of Jemma stripping him of his gear, but as it was all he could do was smile back. He let her work, only moving to undo the straps she couldn't reach and unbelt his holsters. He allowed Jemma to pull it off him, stopping to kiss her once it cleared his head. 

“The stuff is too bloody tight,” he complained, turning away from Jemma to pull his shirt off. He took care to set it away from his other things, not wanting to get whatever was on it on his regular clothes. “I know we need a snug fit, but it'd be nice if we could actually breathe on a mission, too.”

Jemma reached out to rub her hands over his chest once Fitz had his shirt off, running them up to his shoulders to massage a bit, aiming to soothe him. She was always happy to touch his bare skin and always appreciated getting to see him this way, but there wasn’t anything inherently sexual about what she was doing. She just wanted to comfort him. She tutted softly at the pink creases she could see on his skin where the vest had pulled his clothing too tight. 

“I’d rather you have a little difficulty getting a full breath than risk your overall safety, but that’s just me,” she said with a hint of a tease to her voice. “Though I do sympathize.” She stepped in closer to plant a kiss at the hollow of his throat, then moved away to give him room to take off his boots and trousers. 

She sat on the bed to take off her own boots and start removing her own clothing, smiling a small private smile at Fitz as she watched him finish with his. She would let him have first dibs at the shower if he wanted. She wasn’t going to assume he wanted her in there with him; sometimes after a long, hard day, the best thing was a few minutes of peace and quiet to yourself under the hot water, and she wouldn’t begrudge him that.

Down to his boxers, Fitz lingered in the doorway of the bathroom, waiting for Jemma to get down to her skivvies, too. When it became clear she wasn't planning on joining him, he pouted a bit and cleared his throat to get her attention. 

“C'mon, Jemma. Join me. I need help with my back.” He gave her a soft smile before turning his attention to the shower. He cranked the taps, setting it to just the right side of scalding before stripping off his shorts. He wasn't up to anything more than having his back scrubbed and lavishing similar attention on Jemma, but he needed that kind of intimacy now more than he needed anything else. 

Jemma smiled softly as Fitz disappeared into the bathroom, then hurried to get out of the rest of her clothing. Once she was done, she padded quietly into the bathroom, where Fitz was just straightening up from slipping off his boxers. She came up behind him and curled her hands around his upper arms, pressing a kiss to the back of his shoulder before resting her cheek there, just taking a moment to be close and soak in his nearness, grateful that he was home and uninjured. Then she stepped back and looked up around his shoulder at him. “Do you want in first?” she asked, smiling.

He thought for a moment then nodded. While Fitz often tried to be a gentleman, his skin at the moment felt far too grimy to allow for that. He stepped into the shower and ducked under the stream, soaking himself entirely and scrubbing his hands through his hair and over his face. He could practically feel the dried sweat and dirt sloughing off him, and he felt a million times lighter as a result. 

Feeling better, he opened his eyes and held out his hand for Jemma. “C’mere,” he murmured, taking her by the hand and towing her in against him. Fitz wrapped his arms around her shoulders, just enjoying having her close. “Maybe this was a mistake,” he said, words slurring a bit with his tiredness. “I'm not sure I'll actually be able t’ wash up.”

Jemma had to close her eyes to keep the water from getting in them as Fitz brought her under the stream with him, and she smiled as he pulled her up against him, her hands caught between them and pressed flat against his chest. The heat of the water and the slick of his skin against hers felt far better than it had any right to after the trials of the day, and she let herself bask in it for a moment.

Her smile only widened at Fitz’s tired words. She went up on her toes a bit, nuzzling blindly until her nose bumped against his as the water poured over them. “Silly Fitz. That’s what I’m here for,” she said kindly, and kissed him softly. “Here.”

She gently extracted herself from his arms and took his hand to pull him a step forward, out of the water. Then she grabbed the shampoo and squeezed a small amount into her palm before leaning up to work it into his hair. She pressed a kiss to his cheek or his temple here and there as she scrubbed her fingers through his curls, until she’d worked up a good lather. “All done,” she murmured when she was finished, then nudged him back underneath the spray. Not willing to underestimate just how tired Fitz was, she reached up to help rinse his hair, too.

Fitz whimpered a bit, enjoying Jemma's attention to the fullest. He leaned into her touch, humming as her fingers worked through his hair a second time, rinsing away the suds from the shampoo. Ducking out from beneath the spray, Fitz gave her a lazy grin before leaning in for another kiss. It wasn't what he'd call coordinated, but Fitz enjoyed it all the same, soaking in the slide of Jemma's lips and the press of her body against his. 

When they broke the kiss he managed to reach for the conditioner, running some through his hair before taking his washcloth from the hook. He soaked it and switched places with Jemma, letting her warm up under the water as he lathered himself up. He gave her a lazy, satisfied grin as he finished and held the wash cloth up to her. “Will y’ get my back? Please?” 

Jemma enjoyed her brief sojourn under the water, warmed by both it and his kiss. Much like Fitz had felt, it was nice to imagine the spray rinsing away the grime of the day, and the pressure of the water was a soothing massage against her tired muscles. She’d thoroughly run her fingers through her hair and slicked it back away from her face by the time he was through scrubbing down his front, and she was all too happy to continue helping out.

“Of course,” she said, smiling and taking the washcloth from him. She motioned for him to turn back around. 

She was firm but gentle, running the cloth over his back while working her fingers in, giving him a bit of a massage while she was at it. She frowned, though, when she saw evidence of a few small, light bruises blooming up in spots across his back. She hadn’t noticed them when she’d hugged him before they’d stepped in the shower.

“You’ve got some bruising,” she said quietly, sweeping the washcloth across his lower back. “Did you run into some trouble?”

She tried to keep any sort of accusation from her voice; it wasn’t as if she’d expected his mission to go completely complication-free, but she still didn’t want to have to think about him getting into any sort of extensive fight. The bruising wasn’t pronounced, at least, and he hadn’t shown any signs of being in pain, so she was taking that as a good sign.

“Gordon,” he answered before it occurred to him that she might not know who Gordon was. “The teleporter. He was trying to get the crystals.” Fitz paused to hum as Jemma's fingers found a particularly tense knot. 

“I… I killed him.” He whispered that part, still unsure of how he felt about the entire situation. “Well, not really. He materialized around the pipe I had… I guess it wasn't really me, but I was holdin’ it.”

Jemma paused briefly in her ministrations at his words, before she continued gently washing him. She thought back over a year to when he’d confessed to her that he’d shot a man at the Hub during the Hydra takeover, trying to protect May. He’d been conflicted about what he’d done, and judging by his tone of voice now, he felt the same again. She felt a rush of affection for him. If there was anything that told her that Fitz was a good man, it was this.

Having finished with his back, she hung the washcloth back up on its hook and reached up to carefully turn Fitz around by the shoulders to face her. When she could look up into his eyes, she smiled and framed his face with her hands. 

“You were trying to stop someone who meant to cause harm,” she said. “Whether it was actively you or not, you were doing the right thing.” 

Fitz wrapped the fingers of his hand around her wrist, turning his head just enough to press a kiss to her palm. Jemma's faith in him meant everything, and being able to tell her what had happened and get her understanding in return was all he needed. “Thanks,” he told her, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I know you're right, it's just- It's hard. That's all.”

He leaned in to press his forehead against hers, needing that contact, before shifting so he could rinse off. Satisfied he was clean, he reached for the shampoo, squeezing some into his hand and reaching for Jemma, even as he yawned. He stifled it though, and worked his fingers in steady steady circles across her scalp. The sooner they were both clean, the sooner they could be in bed, and Fitz was determined to do his part to make that possible. 

Jemma clucked at him and tilted her head a little, even as she let him build the shampoo up into a lather in her hair. “Fitz,” she admonished lightly, poking him in the chest, “I can do this. You’re almost asleep on your feet, love. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but...go on and dry off and get in bed. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

On a better day Fitz would have had a quick retort, but at the moment he wasn't able to argue. He stole a quick, wet kiss before doing what she suggested and stepping out of the shower. He ran his towel over his hair, scrubbing his curls dry before brushing it over his body. It was a shoddy job to be sure, but Fitz couldn't really bring himself to care. 

Sparing one last, longing glance toward the shower, he went into their bedroom, tossing his dirty boxers into the hamper before pulling on a clean set. Feeling a tad dry, he stole a bit of Jemma's lotion to rub over his arms and legs before slipping between the sheets. He was tempted to shut his eyes and let sleep take him, but Fitz fought to stay awake, wanting to tell Jemma he loved her one more time before they went to sleep.

Jemma knew Fitz wouldn’t last long once he was in bed, so she made quick work of the rest of her shower routine, letting her conditioner set in her hair only as long as it took to wash herself and do a quick shave. Once she was completely rinsed, she twisted the taps off and stepped out to dry off. It took a few passes of the towel to buff most of the water from her hair; after combing it to get the tangles out, she hung the tower up and walked out into the bedroom.

She smiled to herself when she saw that Fitz was fighting a serious half-doze, and grabbed a clean pair of knickers from the dresser, pulling them on. Her camisole and sleep shorts followed. Then she switched off the lamp and slipped into bed beside him. Instead of immediately cuddling up to his side and resting her head on his shoulder, though, she leaned over him to plant soft kisses across his face, inhaling his clean scent and feeling nothing but contentment and pure adoration. “I love you,” she whispered. 

Fitz had watched through half lidded eyes as Jemma got dressed, sighing a bit in appreciation of the sight. Once she was in bed with him, he allowed himself to keep his eyes shut, finding her by feel alone as she leaned in to pepper his face with kisses. 

“Love y’, too.”

The words were hushed, quiet and caught between them. Fitz loved moments like this, where it was just him and Jemma and how they felt without any of the background noise. Wanting just a little more, though, Fitz leaned up and nuzzled against her, their noses bumping slightly until he could find Jemma's mouth with his. He tugged her down after that, settling her against his chest.

“Tomorrow,” he said around a yawn, “or the next day, we should talk t’ Coulson. About us movin’ on.”“Tomorrow,” Jemma repeated, burrowing in against him. She couldn’t resist turning her face into his neck and placing a few more soft kisses wherever she could reach; not meant to titillate, but to soothe and warm. “We can talk to him tomorrow. For now, let’s just rest.” She slipped her arm around his waist and her knee up over his, holding him close, and sighed, letting her whole body relax.

The idea of talking to Coulson about leaving was both nerve-wracking and exciting, but in this moment all she wanted was to curl up next to Fitz and fall asleep, content in the knowledge that they were both happy and safe after a dangerous mission for once.


	24. Chapter 24

With Jemma pressed against him, Fitz fell asleep quickly, far more so than he’d expected, and slept soundly. He supposed that could be attributed to the absolutely insane run up to their adventure on the _Iliad_ , but preferred to credit his girlfriend’s steady breathing and very presence as the thing that kept him from tossing and turning that night. 

Their plan to see Coulson in the morning, however, hit a speed bump nearly immediately. He was still in the medical bay recovering from Mack’s impromptu amputation, a story Fitz had neglected to tell Jemma the night before. He did so as they walked to the lab, explaining how Mack’s quick thinking had kept the Director from suffering the same fate as other humans who had come into contact with the strange alien metal. She seemed a bit shaken by the story, just as Fitz was, and they both gave the monolith that had been brought over from the Iliad a wide berth when they were asked to examine it, using the D.W.A.R.F.S. to do it from a distance rather than getting up close and personal. 

It was a slow two days in the lab before they could get in to see the Director, which only gave Fitz plenty of time to let his nerves work on him about leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. Leaving the only life he’d known since he was 16 was difficult for a number of reasons, even knowing that he was doing it to jump start his life with Jemma. That helped keep things in perspective, but his stomach was still jumping with nerves when they knocked on Coulson’s door. 

“Fitz, Simmons, come in.” Coulson’s left arm was in a sling but he was still impeccably dressed. He gestured for them to take the seats across from his desk. “What did you need to see me about?”

“Well, sir,” Fitz began, shifting a bit in his chair. “We, uh, we wanted t’ talk about, um, we wanted t’ talk about resignin’. From S.H.I.E.L.D.” Whatever Coulson had been expecting to come out of Fitz’ mouth, it hadn’t been that. The older man’s eyes widened in shock as he looked between the two of them, and Fitz rushed to explain in greater detail. “I know that we, we promised that the agency would come first… I just can’t promise that anymore, sir. There’ve been too many close calls. I can’t put S.H.I.E.L.D. first anymore. I won’t.”

Fitz held his gaze steady on Coulson’s. If he had to describe the other man’s expression, he’d say “grudging respect,” but he couldn’t be entirely sure. Instead of speaking to Fitz, he turned to Jemma. 

“I see. Agent Simmons, do you feel the same way?”

Jemma’s instinct was to dry wash her hands, her anxiety was so great. It wasn’t just her boss she was handing in her resignation to, it was her friend, and a man she greatly cared for and respected. That made it even harder to look him in the eye and tell him she wanted to leave, but she knew she owed him that much, at least, after everything they’d gone through together.

“Yes, sir,” she said, folding her hands in her lap and squeezing them tightly, doing her best to look him in the eye and maintain it. “It’s just like Fitz said: it’s come to a point where I can’t promise that I wouldn’t prioritize his well-being over that of completing a mission, or even my own, because--” She faltered slightly. “Because of promises we’ve made to each other. And that puts other agents at risk. It’s...it’s just not feasible anymore, sir.”

Coulson sighed and looked as though he wanted to spout off a litany of rather un-Director like things in light of their announcement, but held off. He merely nodded instead, the silence spinning out between the three of them before he sighed again. When Fitz met his eyes, he thought he saw a hint of approval there, and he wondered if Coulson was thinking about whether or not he should have made the same call ages ago. 

“If it’s the danger you’re worried about, what about being assigned to a permanent location, such as the Hub or the Triskelion? You’d still have access to all of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s resources, and, I have to admit, we’d still have access to your shared brilliance. We’d hate to give that up.”

Fitz looked over at Jemma, Coulson’s words bouncing around his mind. It was tempting, a seemingly perfect middle ground, but he couldn’t bring himself to accept it out of hand. There was still too much risk. 

“Sir, both the Hub and the Triskelion were attacked when Hydra revealed itself. So were the Fridge and the Sandbox. No S.H.I.E.L.D. base is truly ‘safe.’ Not the way I’d like it t’ be.” 

Jemma nodded, holding Fitz’s gaze before looking back at Coulson. “Fitz is right. It really is the inherent danger we’re concerned with. At the risk of sounding sentimental, sir, we want to wake up in the morning knowing we’ll still have each other at the end of the day. We don’t want to live our day-to-day lives in constant fear of being ripped apart anymore. The risk is just too great now. And…” She looked aside at Fitz, wondering if what she was about to say would be a bit too much. “We’re starting to plan ahead for our future. Some parts of it just aren’t compatible with life as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Especially a field agent.”

Coulson nodded again, looking down at the pen he was worrying with on top of his desk. “Well, I can’t say I never wondered if this would happen with you two,” he said after a moment.

“We’re open to consulting,” Jemma added, feeling a twinge of guilt. “That way, you wouldn’t lose us completely. We’d be happy to lend our expertise remotely, on a case by case basis. We just...can’t stay here permanently anymore.” 

Fitz felt his brain stutter to a stop, only dimly aware that Jemma was explaining to Coulson they’d be more than happy to be consultants for his team. His mind was back on the other thing she’d said, the part about certain aspects of their new lives not being compatible with being an agent. He felt a thrill run down his spine at the idea of smaller versions of themselves running around, and forced his attention back to the conversation at hand. He could worry about those other details later. 

“That’s exactly right,” Fitz added by way of support. “Consultin’ would be most welcome, really, if it’s possible. I’m, ah, I’m not sure the pace of your average lab would be as, um, engagin’ after what we’ve seen here.”

Coulson cracked a small smile at that, setting the pen aside and nodding in response. He pressed his palm flat to the desk then ran it over the blotter, making a show of straightening it out before looking back up at them. 

“All right. It’s not ideal, or usual, but we’re not in the business of forcing people to work for us. And I’d rather get to pick your brains from time to time than give that up entirely. My only condition is that you give me two weeks. Two weeks to wrap up any projects or compile and hand your notes over to the agents who will take over your projects.”

“That sounds fair and reasonable,” Jemma said, looking to Fitz for his approval. “But I would also add that we not be asked to go into the field during that time. That would probably go hand-in-hand with not being assigned any new projects, but I just want to make sure we’re all agreeing to the same things here.”

She felt a small weight lift off her shoulders at Coulson’s offer. He was taking it much better than she had anticipated, and she was grateful beyond words for that. It would make breaking the news to the rest of the team just that little bit easier.

“And what if we need real-time testing in the field? We’ve had cases where having a scientist out there was necessary.”

“We’ll train Mack, Hunter, and Daisy on the D.W.A.R.F.S.” Fitz swallowed heavily and looked between Coulson and Jemma. “Bobbi, too, once she’s recovered enough. It’s what I - we - designed them for, sir. They can relay findings both t’ their paired tablets and the lab in real time. It’s a matter of us, or another scientist, interpretin’ the data as it comes in.”

“Fine,” Coulson agreed, “as long as you can promise me that method won’t hold up our results, I’m good with that.” They both nodded, and Coulson patted his hand against the desktop once more. “Good. That’s settled then. Last question: how would you like to tell the others? I could make an announcement-”

“Uh, sir,” Fitz interrupted, “I think it should come from us.” He looked at Jemma for confirmation. “At least for a few people. Our original team, at least.”

Jemma nodded at him, squeezing her hands hard around each other again. “Yes, I think that would be best. I don’t think Skye, at least, would take a general announcement very well. It should come from us.”

Coulson nodded once. “Okay. I’ll let you two handle that, then. I’ll send an announcement out to the rest of the base tomorrow morning. That should give you plenty of time to break it to who you want to in person. Or, you know...if everyone else hasn’t found out by then anyway.” He gave them a wry smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know I hate to lose you, but I respect your decision. A good agent knows when it’s time to make the call to leave.” He sat back in his seat, indicating that their talk was through.

Jemma looked at Fitz before standing. “Thank you, sir,” she said. Coulson nodded again at her, smiling briefly. She smiled back before turning to quietly walk out into the hall, waiting for Fitz to join her. 

Fitz smiled at Coulson and nodded, a thousand things he wanted to say running through his head, but none of them seemed quite right for the moment. He opted to stay silent instead, trusting that the Director meant what he said about respecting their decision. He lingered at the door for a moment, giving Coulson one last smile, before stepping into the hall and shutting the door behind him.

He saw Jemma standing near the wall and went to her, heaving an exaggerated sigh of relief before chuckling a bit. “That was easier than I thought it’d be,” he admitted, smiling brightly at her. He had the rest of his life to look forward to with this woman, free and clear of interference from anyone or anything. What didn’t he have to smile about? It did dim a little though as he thought about the task they’d set before themselves. “Bloody hell. Who do we tell first?”

Jemma gave a similar sigh, stepping forward so she was close enough to lift her hands and pluck at the front of his cardigan. “Skye, I should think,” she said quietly. She was already shoring up her mental reserves at the prospect of telling all of their friends and found family that they were leaving. “We’ve known her the longest, and we’re the closest with her, right? She should know first.” She took a deep breath. “And there’s no sense in putting this off, is there?” She laughed weakly. “I suppose we should go find her.”

She took his hand and squeezed it for support before turning and heading through the corridors of the Playground. At this time of morning, Skye was usually in the training room, going through her morning workout routine either alone or with May. Today, she was there sparring with May, the two of them landing kicks and punches on each other as they went back and forth on the mat. It looked like they’d be able to kill two birds with one stone.

Jemma looked at Fitz as they walked in and stood to one side of the mat, patiently waiting until Skye and May came to a break in their fight. It came when May grabbed Skye by the arm and expertly flipped her, sending her crashing to the mat flat on her back. Jemma winced in sympathy as Skye groaned, her face contorting as she called for a time out.

Once she’d stood and grabbed a drink from her water bottle, she walked over toward Jemma and Fitz. “Hey guys, what’s up?” she asked cheerfully. “Don’t see you in here much, did Coulson send you over?”

Jemma glanced at Fitz again as she twisted her hands together. “Not really, no,” she said, anxiety tinting her voice. “Fitz and I have some...news.”

Skye’s eyes went round. “Oh my god, wait,” she said, holding out her hands. “Jemma. Are you pregnant?”

Jemma’s jaw dropped. “What?!” she cried, completely thrown, her voice going squeaky. “No!”

Fitz felt his cheeks blaze at Skye’s assumption, embarrassed not only by the fact she'd jumped to that conclusion, but that she'd said it in front of May. The older woman looked nonplussed as always, but he still had the uncomfortable feeling that she was looking at them differently now. 

“Jesus, Skye,” he groused, “we're geniuses. We can figure out how t’ use a condom.”

“Yeah, but those things have that high failure rate for a reason. Even with geniuses behind the wheel.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but cut himself short when he saw May cuff her lightly in the arm. “You said you had news?” she prompted, looking between him and Jemma. 

A peek at his girlfriend told Fitz she was still trying to recover from Skye’s earlier question, so he took the reins. 

“We're, uh, we're leavin’. T’ go into the private sector.”

May looked as calm as always, but Skye let out a small shriek that caused him to jump back from her a half step. “And then there'll be babies?!”

“Uh, um,” Fitz stammered, bringing a hand to the back of his head. Talking about this in front of May was a tad uncomfortable, but it wasn't as though they had anything to be ashamed about. “Only plan is t’ find a home first. And then we'll go from there.”

He couldn't help but smile softly at Jemma as he said it, already imagining his ideal future for them: a cozy home surrounded by their children. 

Jemma smiled back, her cheeks warm, feeling a little shy at Skye’s fixation on her and Fitz having children. While it was something she very much wanted included in their future together, she hadn’t even talked about it with him in private yet and had no idea where he stood on the matter. The smile he was giving her reassured her a bit, though, leaving a pleasant sort of warmth flickering in her chest.

“Yes, Skye, I think we’d like to get ourselves settled and established first before we start thinking about--well, anything else,” she said, flustered. “And you’re taking this rather well, aren’t you?”

At that, Skye’s face fell. “Probably because you just told me and I really thought you were pregnant for a minute and I got excited and it hasn’t hit yet. You guys are really leaving? Like, for real?”

May walked past them to pick up a towel and her own water bottle. “Are you surprised?” she asked mildly. “I’ve seen this coming for a long time. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

Jemma blinked. “What?”

She took a drink from her bottle. “I expected the two of you to hand in your resignations as soon as Fitz was medically cleared to return to full active duty.”

Jemma looked at Fitz, not quite sure how to respond. “Well--I--the thought _did_ cross my mind, but--it just didn’t seem right at the time--”

Fitz buried his hands in his pockets and looked down at the toes of his shoes. He’d come a long way since their accident, but it still made him a bit uncomfortable to talk about it. He’d considered quitting, more than once, but the work had always seemed important enough to put other things to the side. It had felt like they’d have unlimited time. The events of the past few weeks had changed that belief.

He met Jemma’s eye, shrugged, and looked back at the other women. “There was work t’ do. Work we were needed t’ do. That I needed t’ do, t’, uh, prove t’ myself that I still could.” If he had quit as soon as he’d been cleared, Fitz would have always wondered if he’d only run away from being an agent. Now he knew he still could. He was choosing to step away instead of being forced to do so. 

Jemma was still watching him, smiling softly, and took a step sideways toward him, reaching out to curl her hand around his wrist where it was poking out of his pocket. “Now feels like the right time,” she said, looking back at Skye and May. “While it’s quiet, and we don’t have Hydra or some other terrible something breathing down our necks. Because if we keep putting it off, when will the right time be?” She gave them an apologetic smile. “We just don’t want to wait until it’s too late.”

May nodded, seemingly in approval, but Skye lurched forward to throw her arms around the both of them, reeling them in by their necks. “You know I’m gonna miss you guys so much, right?” she said, her voice choked. “You better call. Like every day. Or at least once a week.”

Jemma blinked back tears as a lump rose in her throat, and she raised the arm that wasn’t pinned against Skye to wrap around her friend’s back. “Of course,” she replied, sounding emotional herself. “You really think we’d just leave and you’d never hear from us again?”

He wasn’t nearly as emotional as the girls, but Fitz still found himself ducking his head against theirs as he tightened his arms around them both. After everything they’d been through together, he couldn’t imagine never seeing their team members again. They had become like family, and for a man who’d desperately wanted siblings growing up, that was more difficult to walk away from than the job itself. 

“There’ll be a guest room,” he muttered, voice muffled by the girls’ hair. “It’s yours, whenever y’ want t’ stop by.”

That seemed to cheer Skye up, and they left her wiping at her eyes with her tee in preparation for another few rounds with May. The older woman just shook their hands and wished them luck, and somehow her understated goodbye was just as heartfelt as Skye’s more emotional one. 

“That was harder than I expected,” he confessed to Jemma as they left the training room. “I thought it would be a lot simpler t’ tell everyone we’re goin’.”

“That actually went far better than I expected,” Jemma said, sniffling and wiping discreetly at her eyes. “I expected a lot more crying, from Skye at least. May...well, that _was_ pretty much what I expected.” She shook her head and took a deep breath as she regained control of her emotions. “Who do you think we should try to find now?” 

He suggested Trip; it only seemed right, with him being the last agent remaining who'd served on the Bus, and Jemma readily agreed with him. They found him with Mack in the garage, and they took the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone again.

Mack got a little misty-eyed on them, wishing them both the best before excusing himself to another part of the garage. Trip just gave them his usual wide grin as he looked between the two scientists. 

“It's about time, man,” he teased, clapping Fitz on the shoulder. “Congrats. You know she's too good for you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Fitz’ admission came as he glanced over at Jemma, a smile pulling the corners of his mouth. A year ago his hackles would have been raised at Trip’s flirtatious tone, but now he knew it was just part of the man's larger than life personality. 

“He acts up, you let me know,” Trip told Jemma. “I'll come straighten him out.”

Jemma laughed, smiling widely, and stepped forward into the hug that Trip offered her. His boundless optimism and cheer was definitely something she would miss having around on a daily basis. “I’ll do that,” she said, humoring him, and grinned at Fitz over Trip’s shoulder.

“And take care of Skye for us, will you?” she said, teasing,once Trip let her go. “Make sure she doesn’t lose herself to too much junk food.”

Trip laughed. “You know our girl does pretty much anything she sets her mind to, but I’ll try.”

They talked for a few more minutes before Trip gave Jemma another hug and Fitz a fistbump, and they left the garage feeling much better than they had when they left May and Skye in the training room.

“I think all that’s left is really Hunter and Bobbi,” Jemma murmured, once they were back out in the hall. Fitz nodded, and Jemma sighed with a little bit of trepidation before heading in the direction of the lab’s medical bay.

Bobbi was awake now, but still medicated and thus prone to long naps. Hunter still spent a lot of time at her side, and was currently sitting in his chair, feet propped up on the edge of her bed, watching a football match on a tablet. Both of them looked up when Fitz and Jemma appeared in the doorway to the medical bay, and Bobbi smiled weakly.

“Hey,” she said, her voice scratchy and thin. “My favorite scientists.” 

Jemma smiled tremulously. This, she thought, might be the hardest for her. Any resentment she’d felt over Bobbi being associated with Gonzales had been swept away when Ward and Kara had kidnapped her, and now all she wanted was for her to get better. Leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. now almost felt like abandoning her when she was vulnerable, in a way. 

“Hi, Bobbi,” she said. “Hunter.” Hunter smiled in greeting too, and put his tablet down in his lap. Jemma looked at Fitz. “We have some news,” she said.

Fitz didn’t miss the way Hunter’s eye went to Jemma’s left hand before shooting up to give him a questioning look. At least the merc hadn’t made the same assumption Skye had. He took Jemma’s hand in his and looked between Bobbi and Hunter. He opened his mouth to tell them, when Bobbi cut him off. 

“You’re leaving.”

It was a statement, not a question, and the way Bobbi’s voice went quiet tugged at Fitz’ heart, even though she was smiling at them. 

“Uh, yeah. We just turned in our resignations.”

He tried to smile at them, but somehow he couldn’t manage it. It felt wrong, giving them happy news, while Bobbi was still in a hospital bed. But if they picked up on his awkwardness, neither of them let on. Hunter left the tablet at the foot of the bed and got up to hug them both, wishing them both the best. Much like Trip, he seemed to be genuinely happy for them, asking questions about their plans. Bobbi was quieter, and while it could be attributed to the drugs, Fitz got the feeling there was more to it than that. 

Letting go of Jemma, he sidled up next to the bed and smiled at Bobbi. She returned it, looking almost like her old self as she took his hand in hers. 

“Good for you guys,” she said, giving his fingers a squeeze. “You deserve it. Get off the rollercoaster while you still can.” Her eyes lingered on Hunter for a moment, and Fitz had the uncomfortable feeling that their announcement had just pushed back Bobbi and Hunter’s ability to do the same. 

“Yeah, well,” he answered, trying to buy himself time as he gathered his thoughts, “just one too many close calls.” He paused, feeling awkward. If anyone knew about close calls, it was Hunter and Bobbi. “And the timin’ just felt right, y’ know?”

“Yeah, I do.” She looked a little wistful, and Fitz had to fight off another wave of guilt. Thankfully Bobbi kept talking, allowing him to move past it. “You guys gonna take any time off first? Go on vacation?”

“Dunno,” Fitz answered truthfully. “We really haven't gotten much past telling Coulson and now telling you.” He had to admit, he did like the idea of taking a holiday before they started their new lives, but that was probably something best discussed with Jemma in private.

“It doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Jemma said quietly, smiling as she stood at the foot of the bed. “I can’t remember the last time I took a holiday. It was long before I signed on for the Bus, back at SciOps...maybe even before that year I taught at the Academy. I had the time to take off, but I was just so busy with my work, and it seemed pointless to plan a trip without anyone to go with. Holidays are much better when you have someone to experience them with.”

She gave Fitz a small smile that was almost sad, thinking back on all the time they’d lost and the things they could have done together, even though she knew there wasn’t much point in dwelling on all of that. All they could do was move forward and make the best of what they had now.

“Why am I not surprised that you’ve never taken a holiday?” Hunter said, bumping her shoulder with his. “You’re a complete workaholic. The both of you are. I say go on one. Go somewhere expensive and spend too much money on room service, have lots of sex, and be completely irresponsible. Live the high life. God knows you’ve earned it.”

Jemma managed to keep her eye roll restrained, but Hunter’s irreverence was worth it to see Bobbi smile and weakly swat in his general direction with one hand.

“Leave them alone,” she said, still smiling. “They can do whatever they want, irresponsible or not.” Then she turned her smile on Jemma and winked, and she couldn’t help but smile back. 

Fitz bit his lip and looked down, his cheeks blazing thanks to Hunter’s comment. What he’d described sounded very nice indeed, and Fitz would love the chance to spend a week or more somewhere where he got to see Jemma in little more than a bikini - or even less. But what had really affected him was the fact that what Hunter had described sounded more like a honeymoon than a run-of-the-mill holiday, but Fitz was probably getting ahead of himself on that front. 

They said their goodbyes to the other couple, promising to keep in touch and that there’d always be plenty of room at their place for them, wherever they landed, before slowly wandering back toward their lab. Fitz automatically reached for Jemma’s hand, using the reassuring press of her fingers in his to square away his thoughts. 

“So, uh, is that something you’d want t’ do?” Fitz reached up and scratched the back of his head, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. “Go on holiday, I mean.”

“Of course,” Jemma said softly, smiling at him. “I think the idea of a holiday sounds lovely, after all we’ve been through. But it can be whenever we get around to it; it doesn’t have to be right away.” Her smile turned a bit wry. “After all, we’ve only got two weeks now to find ourselves a flat. And we haven’t even decided _where_ we’d like to live…”

She turned to look at her workstation and the paperwork stacked neatly beside it, sighing as she thought about all the work she would have to do getting it all sorted and organized for whoever would be taking her place, and having to do all of that alongside the pressures of searching for a new place to live. She tapped at a few keys on the keyboard, bringing up a few reports to look at, then sighed again and turned to look back at Fitz,

“Have you thought about it any?” she asked. “Where you’d like to live, I mean. Do you think you’d want to stay close by here? Or maybe go back to Boston? Or even--go back home?” 

There was a hopeful note in Jemma's voice that he couldn't help but notice, a note that tugged at his own heart. 

“Home,” he answered quickly. “It'd be nice t’ be home, don't y’ think?” Fitz took a half step nearer and fiddled with the stacked papers. “I mean, I know that'll change if we can't find jobs there, but… I've been away from my mum for a long time, and you've been away from your family, too. It'd be nice t’ not have t’ spend a quarter o’ our monthly pay t’ visit.”

Fitz nibbled his lip and switched to drumming his fingers against the tabletop. He had a thought, but was a bit nervous giving voice to it, mostly because he didn't much fancy the idea himself. 

“I… I know it's not ideal, but if we couldn't find a flat straight away, my mum would let us stay with her. Or we could stay with yours, if we wanted t’ look closer t’ London.” 

Warmth bloomed in Jemma’s heart at his reply; it was as if he’d read her mind. It seemed they were as in tune as ever. “Yes, I think it would be nice,” she said, moving her hand over so that their fingers just overlapped, staying his nervous tapping. “They haven’t seen much of us since we first started with S.H.I.E.L.D.--even longer for you, since you were at MIT. I _have_ missed it. But if you’re agreeable to it…” She smiled at him. “Then yes, I really do think I’d like it.” 

She frowned again just as quickly, though, tempered by his musing. “It would be rather difficult to find a flat in London in two weeks, I think, especially given that we aren’t there now to see potential locations in person,” she said. She wasn’t especially eager at the thought of living with her parents, either, but it might be unavoidable. “And I know we’ve gotten used to city life since we’ve been over here in America, but...well, there is another option.” She ducked her head as she felt a rush of shyness come over her. “More like an idea, really.” 

Like Fitz, she was hesitant to voice her thoughts, but in her case she wasn’t sure what he would think of it, and was afraid of being mocked.

Fitz bumped his shoulder against hers, just firmly enough to let her know he wanted to hear what she had to say. There's never been room to be shy between them before, and he saw no reason to start now, particularly not when they were going to live together again.

“Go on,” he encouraged her, “say it. Tell me what you're thinkin’ and we'll talk about it.” The fact of the matter was that there was little he'd ever deny Jemma, and even that was a rare event. If she had a strong opinion on where she'd like to live, Fitz was happy to talk about it. 

“Well…” She folded her hands together on top of the bench and kept her head ducked, still a little hesitant to meet his eyes. “My family went on holiday once to the country when I was a little girl and I saw a cottage while we were there that’s just really stuck with me ever since. It was lovely, quaint, you know--like something out of a picture book. I’ve always…” She swallowed. “I always used to think of it as someplace you and I could settle down in one day. Even after we separated, I still used to think of it. I don’t know, as...some sort of punishment, I suppose. Something I wanted but would never be able to have.” She finally looked up and gave him a small, tremulous smile. “I still think about it, even now. It’s...it’s in Perthshire.” Then she inhaled. “Of course, you’re under no obligation to like the idea just because I do, but I thought--well, it’s Scotland, and it would be closer to your mum than London, but not so close that she would still have to call ahead before she came to visit--”

There was just a hint of pain in Jemma’s voice as she described the way she’d held onto her fantasy, enough to make it sting Fitz’ heart. It ached even more when he realized she was rambling because she was honestly afraid he’d tell her he didn’t like the idea. Acting on instinct, he cupped her cheek in his palm and silenced her with a kiss. The angle was awkward, with him standing next to her at the table, but he made it work, kissing her soundly without thought for whoever might see them. They’d turned in their resignations; let them gawp. 

When he finally pulled back, it was to smile down at her, pleased by the slightly stunned look on her face. He ran his thumb along her cheekbone, mind drifting to a vision of their future, nestled in a cottage at the foot of the Highlands. Nothing grand, but with enough room to grow into, both personally and professionally. 

“I love the idea, Jemma. We can start researchin’ tonight. See what’s out there and what we can afford. And maybe… Well, maybe our holiday is less about gettin’ away and more about gettin’ settled in, before we get caught up in the rush of goin’ back t’ work.”

Jemma couldn’t help but smile breathlessly, flushed with the way Fitz had just kissed her and the realization that he _did_ like the idea, and that a long-held dream of hers might actually become a reality. She leaned her cheek into his hand, savoring his touch. 

“That sounds wonderful,” she said, still fighting to contain her smile. “Oh--I can’t wait. Bother, I have no idea how I’ll focus on anything now.” She straightened up, her smile turning teasing. “You’d best go get to work and leave me alone so I can get all of this finished in time before we have to leave, so we can have as much time as possible to sort all of this moving business out.” She couldn’t help the excited tint to her voice, either, the idea of starting this new part of her life with Fitz still new and thrilling.


	25. Chapter 25

Fitz did as Jemma asked, although it wasn’t easy for him. He kept sneaking glances at Jemma when he was meant to be organizing his files for Mack, imagining what it’d be like to be back in the UK with her for good. Being able to drive to visit his mother or her parents, the foods he’d missed that he couldn’t just find Stateside, hearing people speak English properly. But best of all, having Jemma all to himself in their own space. Their own _home_. 

He might have cheated a bit, starting his own research on the sly between reviewing files. It might have been foolish, given that they hadn’t set - or even discussed - a budget, but Fitz knew roughly what they each made and what was affordable. By the time he was done, he had a neat little list of 2 and 3 bedroom cottages to show Jemma that night. There were a few on the list he liked, but he knew it was only a start. In truth, he knew he should probably call a broker directly to see what listings were available, but as the thought occurred to him, another crossed his mind: he hadn’t even told his mum yet. 

There was no way he could move home without telling her first, but he also wanted to talk to Jemma before he called her. After dinner, once they were back in their bunk, he settled on the mattress, sitting up against the headboard with his laptop in his lap. 

“So,” he began, opening his browser and pulling up the listings he’d thought they’d both like, “I may have cheated and started a bit early.” Fitz smiled at Jemma a bit and tilted the screen toward her so she could see what he had found. Turning the machine over to her, he took a deep breath and added, “It also occurred t’ me that, ah, just suddenly appearin’ in Scotland without tellin’ my mum might not go over well. Have y’, uh, have y’ told your parents yet? That we’ve resigned?” 

Jemma slid the laptop into her lap, looking at the screen in interest, then looked up at him. “Oh, no,” she said, her expression a bit guilty. “I was planning on calling them tomorrow morning when the time difference isn’t so bad for them.” Then she smiled a little. “I don’t think your mum would react so terribly to us just showing up in Scotland. You know she loves you and would adore having us close by.”

Turning her attention back to the laptop, she went through a few of the listings Fitz had saved, and couldn’t help but get a little starry-eyed at them. All of the cottages he’d picked out were absolutely adorable in her opinion, perfectly suited to what she’d always imagined for them, and she could easily see them settling into any one of them.

“Oh, Fitz, these are perfect,” she murmured, scrolling through the photos of the listings, looking at the whitewashed walls, mullioned windows, and beamed ceilings. “Of course, we’ll have to buy furniture, we’ll need to factor that into our budget too, but these are lovely. You’ve made a good start.” 

Fitz flushed in pleasure, pleased that Jemma approved of his choices. He really hadn't had any doubts that he knew what she'd like, but it was nice to have it reaffirmed. “It's just a first search,” he murmured. “I just wanted t’ come up with a list o’ places that we could turn over t’ an agent when we get there. I wouldn't want t’ rent without seein’ a place in person, y’ know?

“Only downside is I couldn't find any with double vanities,” Fitz teased, knowing how much Jemma wanted that particular feature. “Would y’ be okay waitin’ for that until we could buy a house?” There'd be a lot more he could do when they owned the property instead of having to ask permission all the time. 

“I think it’s a sacrifice I’ll be willing to make,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I don’t mind pushing you out of the way of the mirror if it means it’s our own place to call home.”

She turned to look back at the laptop again. “This really is an excellent start. And if we find a good agent and give them this list, they can probably find more properties for us based off of what we’ve given them.” She perused the listings for a few more minutes in silence before setting the laptop forward on the bed and turning to lean into Fitz’s side, leaning her head on his shoulder, curling her legs up beneath her. “I know this is just the beginning, but this really is quite exciting, isn’t it? Even if it’s a little scary, too. We don’t really know where we’re going from here yet. But there’s so much possibility! Just think of all the different things we could do together, Fitz. Where we might go.”

She thought of Skye’s hope that she was pregnant again, and felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. Part of her wanted to bring it up, just to see how he felt about the idea of children at all, but wasn’t sure how to start.

Jemma’s enthusiasm brought a smile to Fitz’ face and he automatically reached out to her, wrapping his fingers around hers and pulling her hand into his lap. It really was thrilling to think that they were so close to taking this next step that he couldn’t help but feel buoyant about the entire affair. There was something off in Jemma’s posture though that put him on alert. 

“Jemma?” he asked, purposefully keeping his voice as gentle as he could. She seemed shy almost, and Fitz didn’t want to scare her off by speaking too brusquely, even unintentionally. “I know that face, baby girl. What’s goin’ through your mind?”

The use of his endearment for her only had Jemma leaning more into his side, almost as if she wanted to hide. He couldn’t have known that would tap into exactly what she was thinking about, though. “Oh, it’s silly,” she murmured, looking down and picking at the sleeve of his cardigan. “I--I was just thinking about Skye’s assumption that...that we were going to have a baby.” She felt herself flush a little again, just saying the words. “I know it isn’t something we’ve ever discussed before, but…” 

That soft, quiet “but” spoke volumes to Fitz, conjuring up images of a little girl with his curls and Jemma’s eyes, or a little boy too precocious for his own good who loved homework more than life itself. He’d thought about it before, having a family with Jemma, mostly in the intervening years when it seemed like he’d never find someone he loved as much as he’d loved her. Those thoughts hadn’t left him when they’d started dating again, and the hint that Jemma might want that too left him flush with happiness. 

Fitz couldn’t deny that there was something titillating about the idea of a pregnant Jemma as well. That one day their lovemaking would leave more tangible results than rumpled bedclothes and discreet lovebites, and he had a sudden vision of whispering to Jemma’s belly and creating a nursery. Fitz knew it might be too idyllic a fantasy, but it was his nonetheless. 

“But?” he asked, tone teasing. Fitz craned his neck so he could press a kiss to the top of Jemma’s head. “I didn’t mind her askin’ that. I like the idea, t’ be honest. I just thought, well, uh, I planned on proposin’ first. Y’ know. One day. Before we got t’ the baby stuff.”

“Oh,” Jemma, mumbled, her face flooding with even more heat, though this time it was also immeasurably pleased. “I mean, we haven’t even talked about _marriage_ yet, I didn’t want to assume anything, but…” She leaned her head back to look up at him. “You...do like it?” 

She searched his face with her eyes, looking for any sign of a joke or teasing, but she found none. Her stomach swooped. “Just...I’ve thought about it, sometimes...a little boy or girl with your hair and my eyes, who likes to eat as much as you do or likes to splash in rain puddles the way I did, and...I think about what an amazing father you’d be.” 

Jemma knew what insecurities Fitz held regarding that, the demons that lived in his past regarding his own father, but she had absolute faith that he wouldn’t repeat the mistakes and abuses of the man who had hurt him so much. Still, she wrapped her hand a little tighter around his arm.

“I know, I’m getting very sentimental,” she said, a bit self-deprecatingly as she set her chin on his shoulder. “Like you said, you haven’t even proposed yet.” And that sent butterflies through her stomach, too. She knew Fitz was it for her, and they’d both made allusions to the fact that they were pretty much set for life, but to hear him actually talk about it in absolutes that way sent her aflutter.

Hearing Jemma say she thought he’d make an amazing father made Fitz’ breath catch. Despite being determined to be nothing like his own, there was a very real fear that he’d slip into his father’s habits without meaning to, that maybe it was a genetic fault he couldn’t avoid. It had meant that the idea of having children had always been a little fraught for Fitz, but hearing Jemma’s certainty - and how easily it rolled off her tongue - made Fitz feel like he was on more even footing. 

He chuffed out a laugh at her claim that she was being sentimental - she certainly wasn’t the only one - and shifted his hold on Jemma briefly so he could wrap his arm around her shoulder. As Fitz waited for her to settle against his chest a trouble thought occurred to him. “You’re not disappointed, are y’? I mean, the surprise element o’ bein’ proposed t’ is gone now, in a way.”

The romantic in him lamented not being able to surprise her, but if he were being entirely honest, Fitz knew surprising Jemma wasn’t likely. Still, there was part of him that wanted to make it special, to give them a story to tell their kids, and he worried he’d ruined that a bit. 

Jemma smiled up at him, splaying a hand out over the center of his chest as she snuggled in against him. “Of course I’m not disappointed, don’t be silly,” she said. “I know I said we haven’t specifically talked about it, but we have kind of... _talked_ about it, you know. So while I’ll know the intent is there, I won’t know anything else. When, or how, or what sort of ring, or anything else you might come up with. Don’t worry, you’ll still have a bit of mystery preserved.”

Just thinking of what he might do had her feeling girlish and excited too, just as much as the ideas of finding a home and having children did. It surprised her to a certain extent, how much domesticity appealed to her now, but she figured if she still had a job that kept her mind active and engaged, there was no reason why a cozy home life couldn’t fulfill her just as much as her career alone once had.

In that moment, with the way she was smiling up at him, Fitz was tempted to ask her then and there. It would certainly meet his criteria that the proposal be a surprise, both to him and her, but he held his tongue. Instead he began making mental notes about what he thought she might like in a ring. He wondered if he should bring Skye in to help him when the time came, but quickly decided against it. Their bubbly, talkative friend would struggle to keep his secret, super spy or no. 

“Hopefully it lives up t’ expectations.” Fitz tilted Jemma’s chin up for a soft kiss. “Y’ know. Whenever the time comes.” Given how well living together had gone before, minus their ill-advised breakup, he anticipated it would be sooner rather than later. 

Feeling impossibly content, Fitz sighed and settled against the headboard. “Nine work days and countin’,” he murmured to Jemma, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Anythin’ on your Playground bucket list y’ want checked off before Koenig takes our lanyards?” 

“Oh, goodness, I don’t know.” Jemma laughed softly, happily settled against Fitz’s chest. “I suppose I could think of a few things, but they’re not anything anyone else needs to know about. Probably couldn’t get away with it even if we wanted to.” She snorted. “ _Definitely_ couldn’t. Oh--before I forget, though--” She tapped her fingers over his chest. “I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon, to get the IUD put in.” 

Fitz felt a bit like he had whiplash, his mind unsure of what it should focus on first. It had very much sounded like Jemma had a bucket list, and one that might have needed his assistance. He was just ready to ask what it was, ready to make any suggestions he needed to regarding security feeds and sneaking around when she dropped the news about the IUD on him. 

He felt a low thrum of excitement, knowing that it meant they were on their way to condomless sex. He felt a bit guilty about that, not liking that it was where this primal brain had gone, but he thought it might be forgivable. 

“Tomorrow? Is that something y’ need me t’ be at? Or just want me at?” Fitz had a general idea of what was involved, having researched a bit when they'd first talked about it, but wasn't sure if his presence would be all that welcome. 

“Yes, tomorrow,” Jemma replied, then waved a hand. “Oh, no, you don’t have to worry about coming with me if you don’t want to,” she assured him. “It’s a fairly simple procedure, I shouldn’t be there very long. It’s nothing you need to worry about.” She leaned up to kiss his cheek. “But thank you for offering.”

She fell silent for a moment, looking back down at the laptop at her feet and wondering if she should drag it back over to them so they could look through some more cottage listings together, but then she looked up at him again. “Hey, what about you? Do _you_ have any bucket list items you want to check off?” Her eyebrows were raised almost playfully; she was in a very good mood, and there wasn’t much he could say that would put her off of it.

“Oh, ah,” Fitz tripped over his own tongue as he tried to formulate a response to her question. With Jemma’s own answer still rattling around his brain, he automatically drifted toward similar territory. “Probably nothin’ Coulson would appreciate us gettin’ into, even with our resignations turned in.” He managed to give her a smile, even though his cheeks were burning. 

“If we’re talkin’ about, er, _christenin’_ rooms in the Playground, there are a few I wouldn’t mind gettin’ t’. But,” Fitz gave her a sheepish smile and shrugged, “the storage closet in the lab probably tops my list.” He’d had a number of fantasies about having Jemma over a lab bench, dating all the way back to when they were teenagers and too worried about the wrath of S.H.I.E.L.D. leadership to even joke about this kind of thing, but the agency’s preferred all-glass interiors made that kind of thing nearly impossible to pull off. 

“I do regret that we had t’ destroy the Bus, too. Wouldn’t mind gettin’ back in there before we go. Y’ know. For old time’s sake.” 

Jemma bit her lip, trying and failing to contain a wide smile. “ _Fitz_ ,” she said, feigning shock, “that is absolutely inappropriate use of our clearance and probably a safety hazard, considering what’s kept in there.” Nevermind that that’s what had been on her mind when he’d initially asked her about a bucket list, though she’d envisioned the lab itself, or even one of the SUVs parked in the hangar if she was feeling particularly racy. But she wouldn’t deny that the storage closet had its perks. Suddenly, her memory was thrown back to what felt like lifetimes ago, when they’d reported to the Hub for what had turned out to be the briefing on Ward and Fitz’s mission to Ossetia. Jemma hummed thoughtfully and tapped her fingers against Fitz’s chest again.

“Remember back when we were first on the Bus, and we went to the Hub?” she asked. “And we ran into that horrid ex of yours?” The memory of how she’d gotten into a pissing contest of sorts with that woman over Fitz made Jemma cringe now, but a part of her still refused to be ashamed of how she’d asserted herself. “I remember thinking that was the first time I ever truly wanted to violate our promise to Coulson over Section 17 and flagrantly flaunt our relationship in public. I nearly snogged you right there in the middle of the hall in front of her, just to prove I was better.” She sighed in recollection. “Even wished there was a closet nearby I could drag you into.” She looked up at him then and raised her eyebrows pointedly at him. 

“Y’ should have asked, Jemma. I'd have been happy t’ give y’ directions t’ the nearest storage locker.” 

The words just rolled off Fitz’ tongue before he realized what he was saying, his teasing tone running counter to the way his eyes had grown dark at the mere idea of Jemma manhandling him into a closet somewhere. That moment in the Hub had in truth been one of the worst of Fitz’ life. He’d felt horrible that his ex had created such a scene, worried sick that Jemma would be upset enough with him to call things off. Hearing that she’d have rather worked through her frustration with him in a closet somewhere almost made him feel bold enough to start scouting locations at the Playground.

Jemma snorted again, softly. “Really?” she asked drily. “I know we technically had some time off on our own right then, but you wouldn’t _really_ have--” She stopped at the look in his eyes, feeling a low swoop go through her stomach. “Oh.” She gave him a considering look. “ _Really._ ”

Why was she only learning these things about her boyfriend now? What sort of clandestine activities had they missed out on over the years due to being too straightlaced? Though, really, the fault probably laid all on her and her love of the rules. Fitz may have been up for sneaking around the entire time and she just hadn’t known it.

“Yes, _really_ ,” Fitz answered, chuckling a bit to hide the twinge of discomfort he felt at Jemma’s apparent surprise. He might not be as suave as a Trip or a Hunter, but he thought he did all right for himself. Although maybe he should reconsider that opinion. “In case y’ missed it, I think you’re sexy as hell. You’d better believe I’d be happy t’ have y’ pull me into a closet, even if it meant facing disciplinary action.”

He saw Jemma’s jaw go a little slack as her gaze went a bit unfocused, and Fitz had to bite his lip to keep from grinning too widely. “Imaginin’ the missed possibilities now?” 

Jemma sat up a little bit. “No!” she protested, rushing to reassure him. “It’s not that I doubt what you think of me sexually, I--I just didn’t think you’d be so willing to risk sneaking around like that! Honestly, I didn’t think _I_ was so willing to risk it myself until just now.” She sank back down against him, unable to hide a small pout. “ _Yes_ , I’m finding myself thinking of everything we missed. All the way back to the Boiler Room.”

Fitz did grin at that, nuzzling down against the crown of her head and pressing a kiss there. He was more than a little amused that while his younger self had thought he was being chivalrous by not telling Jemma every stray thought that crossed his mind regarding the two of them, they both would have benefited from his speaking up. 

“The Boiler Room, hmm? The pool tables?” Fitz ventured a guess, naming the place he’d first been bold enough - after he’d had a beer or two - to slip behind Jemma to “teach” her how to play pool. She’d known damn well what she was doing already but had let him anyway. That alone had fueled his fantasies about her for months before they finally got together.

The kiss Fitz gave her went a way toward smoothing out her sulk a bit, though Jemma fed it a little, feeling like maybe it was slightly deserved. There were things they’d missed out on by sort of seamlessly falling into a relationship the way they had, and then having to keep it to themselves by virtue of S.H.I.E.L.D. regulations. 

“Hmm, yes, the pool tables,” she murmured thoughtfully. She remembered a night where she’d flirted shamelessly with him, to the best of her awkward teenage ability, hoping it would actually work for once--sometimes she was convinced he was fully oblivious to the fact she was a girl, much less one with a raging crush on him (even if that could be considered a serious violation of her role as his best friend). But he’d finally set his cue stick down to come show her how it was really supposed to be done. She’d practically shrieked with delight on the inside as his arms had come around her from behind to show her how to line up her shot, and the way he’d pressed against her back from shoulder to knee had left her flushed and breathless, though she’d tried to hide it. The moment had played a very prominent role in her dreams--and, indeed, her daydreams--for weeks following.

“There was also that corner round the back of the bar,” she added. “You know, behind the brick pillars? Where everyone would go to snog.” She’d been much too nervous for public makeouts at seventeen, but older Jemma didn’t think she’d be opposed to it, if there was a reasonable facsimile of privacy and enough alcohol was involved, perhaps.

She sighed, then laughed softly. “We did miss out on a lot of what I suppose you could call ‘normal’ or ‘stereotypical’ teenage rites of passage, didn’t we?” she said.

Jemma was right in a lot of ways. They had been expected to exhibit advanced maturity along with advanced intellect, which had meant learning to temper a lot of impulses. It also meant years of being treated as everyone's kid brother, so when Fitz had met Jemma - a girl his age who was his intellectual match and was pretty, too - he'd had no idea what he was doing. He'd just gone along for the ride and hoped for the best. Thankfully, he'd gotten just that. 

“We did,” he agreed, tilting her chin up to look at him, “but since it meant we met, I can't complain. You're the best thing that's happened t’ me. I'll take that over missed snoggin’ sessions any day.” Fitz kissed Jemma, soft and sweet, his fingers skimming against her jaw. 

“Sneaking around, though,” he added as he pulled back, “that we still have nine days t’ do, if you'd like.”

Jemma felt her heart melt a little at Fitz’s sweet, heartfelt words, and she pressed happily into his kiss, soaking up the love he so readily gave her. She was going to marry this man someday, and that knowledge filled her with a happiness that was hard to compare to.

She grinned at him as he pulled back, as if they were sharing a naughty, but thrilling, secret. “Oh, it would be very irresponsible, wouldn’t it?” she said, sounding anything but hesitant. “Especially if we hadn’t squared away all of our work yet, and just left in the middle of the day, or early, or…” She needed to calm down, probably; she was giving herself ideas that couldn’t be acted upon right at that moment. But she couldn’t resist saying, “Skye would never let us live it down if she found out.”

Fitz felt his pulse pick up as Jemma spoke, a dozen different scenarios running through his mind about places they could sneak off to, having to dodge around their teammates to avoid being caught… Fitz would never consider himself an exhibitionist, but there was a certain appeal to having to keep themselves quiet and out of sight. His gaze dropped to Jemma's lips involuntarily, imagining them swollen with kisses as they hid in the storage closet. Fitz groaned at that, and he slipped his hand down her back to squeeze her hip. 

“I'm not entirely sure I care what Skye has t’ say,” he answered, voice low. “But I am certain we could make sure we weren't caught.” It was a dangerous, tempting line of thought, one he likely shouldn't entertain, but Fitz was already working through how to circumvent the closed circuit camera feed without Billy Koenig knowing.

Jemma’s breath hitched a little as Fitz’s hand fell over her hip, and she suddenly wanted to stretch into him, wrap her arm around his waist and sink against him. “I’m sure you could,” she said quietly, leaning up to press a few light kisses along his jaw as she spoke. “You’re brilliant enough. Just set up a loop on the camera feeds or something like that and we’re set.” She reached up to cup the opposite side of his face as she moved up to kiss his cheek. “I don’t think anyone would expect it of us. Or, maybe they would, but we won’t be long for it here, so I don’t think I mind.”

Fitz tightened his arm around Jemma, pulling her closer, encouraging her to kiss him more. It still wasn't enough, though, and he tugged her over until she was in his lap. With easier access, he kissed her properly, cupping her cheek to hold her close. 

“We really doin’ this?” Fitz whispered the question, both thrilled and disbelieving that they were even considering this. It would be one hell of a way to go out. “Tomorrow? Before your appointment?”

Jemma framed his face with her hands, tilting her forehead into his and privately exulting at having been pulled into his lap. She hadn’t intended for things to end up quite this way, but she wouldn’t back down from it now, either.

“If you like,” she murmured, ghosting her lips over his and feeling a thrill at the fact that they were even discussing this. “You’ve successfully convinced me. And there’s nothing that says you can’t have sex right before you have an IUD inserted.” She smirked, as if she thought herself particularly clever.

Fitz actually shivered at that, his hands tightening on Jemma’s hips as he pulled her against him more firmly. This was happening. They were going to check at least one item off their shared bucket list. The knowledge of that set his nerves tingling, and he almost wished they could just rush off and do it now. The thrill was in the chance of being caught, though, and there wasn’t much of that when everyone else was in bed. 

Fitz kissed her instead, slanting his lips against Jemma’s, teasing his tongue against her bottom lip. “It’ll take some plannin’,” he panted between kisses. “T’ set up the feed, I mean. Unless we just want t’ risk it…” Given the fact that preparing for tomorrow meant shifting Jemma out of his lap to hack into the Playground’s video feed, Fitz was more than willing to take his chances, but he thought it only right to leave the choice up to Jemma. 

There was a definite rush to the idea of going without a safety net. Jemma mulled it over while she kissed him back, running her thumbs over his cheekbones and drawing his bottom lip between hers. She couldn’t believe she’d reached a point in her life where she was scheduling sex, even if it was sneaking-around under-the-radar bucket list sex. In the end, she decided that while she wanted to live a little dangerously, even she had her limits. “You might want to set up the feed,” she said. “Just to be safe.” She gave him another, shorter, kiss. “That means I have to move, though, doesn’t it?”

He groaned, leaning his head against Jemma’s, and nodded. Fitz knew she was right, that it was better safe than sorry, but that didn’t mean he had to like the fact she’d be leaving his lap. He took another minute, stole a few more kisses, and only then did he gently pat her hips so she’d lift off him. Thankfully Jemma didn’t go far, opting to settle in next to him as he pulled his laptop over and used a trick Skye had taught him to get into the Playground’s old security footage. 

Fitz found some from a few weeks ago, on a day they had both been in the lab. He pulled it up and found a 30 minute segment he thought had enough general lab work in it to look natural while they took their break. He angled the screen so Jemma could see it, too, and pressed play. 

“So, I’ll set this up before we go in tomorrow. When we want t’ slip away, all I’ll have t’ do is press ‘play.’ That’ll show up on the feed instead o’ us, and we should be in the clear.” Fitz smiled, feeling more than a little satisfied with the job he’d done, even on short notice. “No one should know the difference, so long as we wear outfits that are reasonably similar t’ what we’re wearin’ there.”

Jemma leaned in to peer at the screen. “Looks reasonable to me,” she said. “Excellent work. I’ll just…” She squinted at the footage. “I think that blouse is hanging clean in the wardrobe. Of course, I’ll have to wear jeans, which will make it all a bit more difficult, but we’ll figure it out. We’re geniuses, after all.” She leaned in to nuzzle at his cheek, feeling exceedingly affectionate. “And have I mentioned how much I adore it when you’re clever?”

“Y’ have, in fact,” he answered, leaning into Jemma’s touch, “but I’m happy t’ hear it again.” He turned his head just enough to kiss her, although Fitz was careful to keep it simple, not wanting to push for anything. He would rather savor the anticipation of tomorrow. Fitz bit his lip and did his best to not outright leer at Jemma. “I have a few ideas about your jeans, baby girl, but I’ll keep them t’ myself. For now.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> explicit content warning!

They stayed up a while longer, chatting and trading kisses, before finally turning in for the night. Fitz was a bit surprised by how easily he dropped off. He’d expected his nerves to keep him awake for at least a little longer, but instead he slept soundly, curled around Jemma’s back. In the morning he dressed carefully, making sure he wore the same button down and jeans he had in the video, and slipped the last condom into his back pocket. 

Fitz was oddly aware of it as they walked to the lab, a reminder of what they had planned. He felt an extra bounce in his step, thrilled at the idea of them planning their own covert operation, and had to keep himself from looking too excited to be going to work. Doing his best to school his features, Fitz gave Jemma his customary peck on the cheek and headed back to his station, knowing there was no chance he’d be productive until after their objective had been accomplished. 

Jemma went to her station feeling like she would be fighting a similar battle with her focus, but she had a few other things to occupy her attention first. She set up a few large data transfers to run off external drives to her computer, then grabbed her mobile phone and headed back out of the lab, shooting Fitz a quick smile as she went. 

She knew she didn’t need to stay out of the lab for long, but doing a data transfer while she called her parents wasn’t out of line; she wanted to catch them before it got too late in the day over in England. She settled on one end of the couch in the common room to talk. It was wonderful to hear her dad’s voice when he picked up, and then her mother too when he put her on speaker; she didn’t call them as often as she’d like due to the nature of her life since S.H.I.E.L.D. had gone underground. They were very surprised to hear that she was choosing to leave the agency, even though she told them in some ways, it had been a long time coming. Predictably, though, they were pleased that she and Fitz were choosing to move back to the U.K., even if they were choosing Scotland over England. They joked about being jealous that Fitz’s mum would get so much of their time by virtue of distance, and then started asking rather leading questions about whether or not they should expect to see a ring on her finger anytime soon.

Jemma politely but firmly redirected them, saying that it would happen when it was meant to, but there were no definite plans yet. Then they moved onto subjects of light chatter until she said that she had to get back to the lab, and she would let them know when she and Fitz made their plans to fly back home, and would make time to visit before they headed on to Scotland.

Fitz was still at his station when she reentered the lab, so she gave him another smile as she headed past him to her own. She was pleased to see that her file transfer was nearly done, and got back to work on her paperwork and file sorting. She visited Fitz occasionally throughout the morning, but her work was mostly clerical, getting her project files, analyses, and notes sorted and organized for her successor. Her thoughts kept drifting to Fitz, though, and what they had planned. She kept shooting glances at the clock, which seemed to tick forward interminably slow. By the time lunch finally rolled around, her nerves were racing and her fingers were tapping a sharp rhythm against the tabletop.

Shooting one more glance at the clock, she looked over at Fitz. He was bent over his station, still working, or at least putting up a good appearance of it. Biting her lip, she logged out of the program she was running and made her way over to him, trying not to appear like she was doing anything out of the ordinary. After all, she wasn’t. This was a lunchtime habit.

“Ready for lunch?” she asked lightly once she’d reached the edge of his workstation, resting her hands against it. 

Fitz bit his lip to keep from grinning at her, knowing that one look at his face would likely give them away. That wouldn’t do, not when they’d gone to the trouble of setting up their workaround and dressing the part. He glanced around the lab, and seeing that most of the others had either left themselves or were well engrossed in their projects, slipped his tablet onto the tabletop. 

“Yeah, I’m famished,” he answered, perhaps a bit more loudly than was strictly necessary, pulling up the video to where they needed it. He quickly set it up to cut in and pressed play. He gave Jemma a nod to signal that they were good to go and made a show of tidying up his station. “What were y’ thinkin’ for lunch?” 

Keeping up the thread of a normal conversation was harder work than he’d imagined, although that could likely be attributed to the fact that Fitz was hyperfocused on where they were going. He pressed his hand low on Jemma’s back, gently guiding her along as he looked around the lab. Judging the moment was as good as they were going to get, he opened the storage closet nearest his station, letting Jemma in before stepping in after her. He shut the door as quietly as he could and turned to reach for his girlfriend. 

Fitz caught her around the waist and hauled her against him for a kiss. He was positively buzzing, both from the thrill of sneaking off during the work day and from a plan well-executed, and it showed in the way he slanted his lips across hers, eager and more than a little possessive. 

Jemma made a soft, low noise against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing herself flush against him as she kissed him back, excitement and the illicit nature of what they were doing racing through her veins like a powerful drug. She kissed him over and over, enjoying the hot slide of their lips together, loving the fact that he was taking charge the way he was.

She felt like she couldn't get Fitz close enough, and she wanted to feel the solid weight of him on her. She tugged at him, walking backward just a few steps until her back hit the wall next to the door, and kissed him even harder.

Fitz was more than happy to comply, pressing himself flush against Jemma as he nipped at her lower lip, more than a little demanding. He felt a twinge of guilt and quickly pushed it aside, reminding himself that while he usually preferred to take his time with Jemma, rushing here was part of the thrill. With that settled in his mind, Fitz felt more comfortable taking liberties. He stopped to tug her blouse free of her jeans before slipping his hands onto her bum, squeezing lightly. 

Using his new grip, he pulled her hips off the wall and onto his, groaning as Jemma made contact with his rapidly hardening cock. He wanted her, badly, and knowing they might be caught only added to his urgency. Fitz slipped one hand down her thigh and behind Jemma's knee, and hoisted her leg over his hip. He rutted against her center, groaning sloppily against her mouth as pleasure flooded his system at the sensation. 

Jemma gasped as Fitz’s hands slid over her arse and squeezed, heat pooling low in her belly; but that was only magnified exponentially when he pulled her leg up over his hip and started grinding up against her. She moaned in unison with him, running one hand up into his hair to clutch his head close as she slanted his mouth open to kiss him deeply.

Having him rut against her, feeling how hard he already was, and using her leg around his hip to help her match his rhythm, had pleasure rapidly banking in her already. Like Fitz, everything about the encounter was heightening every sensation for her, making her desperate for more. It didn't take long before she was reaching down between them to fumble for the button and zip on his jeans.

He felt her fingers scrabble low against his belly, plucking at the button, and surged into her touch automatically. Fitz was torn, desperate to both get her hands on him and his on her. His mind settled on getting his fingers on Jemma’s bare skin, and he quickly began to open the buttons of her blouse. It took him a while, far longer than it should have, distracted as he was by the feel of her hand, but Fitz managed, his fingertips skimming over her ribs on their way to her breasts. 

He cupped her briefly through the thin material of her bra before simply tugging the cup down all together. Fitz sighed when he felt her skin - impossibly soft - beneath his fingertips, and immediately went to work rolling her nipple between his fingers. He used the touches he knew Jemma liked best, knowing time was of the essence and wanting to be sure she was as turned on as he was when the time came. 

Fitz succeeded in distracting Jemma in her mission of getting his jeans open; she'd distracted herself, too, not wanting to stop kissing him or give up the feeling of his cock hard against her center long enough to concentrate on getting his zipper down. But his hands on her skin really did it, especially when he pulled the cup of her bra down and pinched her nipple. Her head fell back against the wall as she gasped, pleasure flooding her veins and burning sweet.

“ _Fitz,_ ” she breathed, fisting her hands in his shirt. “God, yes--”

His fingers, warm and nimble, stroked more pleasure to life in her, and she moaned. Another jerk of his hips against hers reminded her of her mission, though, and she brought her foot back to the floor before attacking his jeans again. She made short work of his zipper, her breath hitching as he continued to palm her breast, and once she had his jeans open, reached into his boxers to wrap her hand around his cock. She moaned again at how hard and hot he felt, and leaned forward to kiss him again and she gave him one firm, smooth stroke.

“Chris’, Jemma,” he groaned before remembering they were supposed to be sneaking around. He muffled himself against her neck, focusing his attention on her pulse point in the hope he could be quiet if only he had something else to do. That plan proved futile when Jemma ran her hand over him again, pulling a moan from him. 

“We have t’ be quiet,” he whispered, reminding himself as much as Jemma. “Or we're goin’ t’ get caught.”

Just saying that sent another thrill down Fitz’ spine. Now he understood why people did this, how having to be quick and quiet could be an aphrodisiac. He dropped his own hand to the waist of Jemma's jeans, fumbling with the button and the zip a bit as he kissed her. As soon as he got them open, Fitz slipped his fingers inside, pressing against the damp material of her knickers. He bit his lip sharply to keep from moaning again, and quickly began to push her knickers and jeans down over her hips, just enough so he could actually get his hands on her. 

Jemma wanted to breathe his name again, moan, _anything_ , but she couldn't, mindful of Fitz’s warning, so the best she could do was pant heavily against his mouth, and let him swallow her sighs and gasps as they kissed. 

She widened her stance just a bit to give him easier access to her, and hissed as his fingers slid over her center, already wet and wanting of him. The pad of his forefinger slipped over her clit and this time she couldn't help but mewl against his lips, and her hand tightened around his cock. Trying to focus despite the way Fitz was driving her to distraction, she kissed him messily and let go of him to stretch his boxers over his cock, then took him in hand again, giving him even firmer strokes, wanting to drive him absolutely wild. 

Fitz’ eyes slipped shut when she got her hand on him again, both in appreciation and as an attempt to keep himself from slipping over the edge too quickly. It was a very real possibility, between the wet heat calling to him from between Jemma's thighs and the potential to be caught in the act. They had to move quickly. He hated to do it, but he took his hand off Jemma and brought it to her hip, turning her in place so she was facing the wall and crowding up against her back. 

“Is this all right?” he whispered in her ear. They hadn't discussed logistics and he didn't want to do anything that would turn Jemma off to the experience. 

Jemma automatically braced her arms up on the wall at face level, her breath coming short and quick as Fitz’s chest pressed against her back. This position would force her to be almost entirely passive, but she couldn't deny that there was something extremely thrilling about being taken like this, his hands clenching hard around her hips, his breath hot against her ear. It made a sharp, delicious thrill run through her.

“Yeah,” she whispered, and pressed her bum back into him, wanting to feel him.

Feeling Jemma press into him, her back arched and ready for him, made Fitz’ breath come up short. He pressed his face into her neck, giving her a quick kiss as his fingers slicked through her folds. He circled his fingers around her clit, wanting to be sure she was as ready as possible. It tested his manual dexterity, but Fitz somehow managed to unwrap and roll the condom he'd brought onto himself one handed, his rhythm only faltering slightly in the process. 

Sure that they were both ready and knowing time was short, Fitz set his hands on Jemma's hips, guiding her into an angle that would work for both of them. Keeping one hand on her lower back, Fitz guided himself to press against Jemma's entrance. He held there for a beat, enjoying the anticipation, before canting his hips forward to claim her completely. 

Jemma’s breath caught as she felt the head of Fitz’s cock nudge up against her entrance, and she tensed, waited, eagerly anticipating that first push. It was different, not being able to see him and know exactly when it was coming. But then his fingers dug into her hips and he took her in one smooth stroke, and she had to bite her lip hard to keep from crying out with pleasure.

Something about the angle and the position had Fitz pressing up against all the most sensitive places inside her, and as he started up a rhythm, it was all she could do to keep quiet. Every thrust sent bolts of hot pleasure zipping through her, and hearing his uneven breathing only ratcheted it up even more. She did the only thing she could think of to do in this position, which was press back into him as he thrust in, and clenched her inner muscles around him, hoping it ramped up his own pleasure.

Fitz squeezed his eyes shut tight against the waves of pure sensation that were rocketing through him. Everything seemed to put him on edge, from the way Jemma felt wrapped around him to their panting in unison. Try as they might to keep quiet, they couldn’t silence that, or the odd groan that slipped out. Fitz did his best to muffle his against Jemma’s shoulder, alternating between kisses and setting his teeth against her, but he couldn’t be sure of how successful he was. 

He knew the angle was working for him, but without Jemma’s usual verbal feedback, he couldn’t be sure the same could be said for her. Fitz gathered his wits enough to palm one of her breasts through her open blouse, teasing and tweaking her nipple, while his other hand slipped down between Jemma’s thighs. With Jemma’s jeans down near her knees it was a little tight, but he managed to slip his fingers through to press against her clit, stroking her in time with his thrusts. 

Jemma keened quietly, setting her forehead against her arms braced on the wall and squeezing her eyes shut, her mouth falling open. His fingers rubbing her clit was a little uneven but it still sent pleasure licking up through her, mixing with his teasing of her breast. She _couldn't_ keep quiet.

“Fitz,” she whispered, arching her back desperately, trying her best to press back into him, wanting to be as active as she could. “Oh god, _yes._ ”

She wanted to say more, that she loved it like this, the position and how powerful it made him feel, how the excitement of hiding and how he was taking her was rapidly driving her toward the edge, but she had to stay quiet. Mostly quiet. That only made it better, too. 

Hearing Jemma whisper his name that way, needy and more than a little desperate, had Fitz whimpering in response, his head falling forward to rest against her neck. “Jemma,” he panted in her ear, needing her to hear him despite knowing it put them at greater risk. The muscles in his forearm were beginning to cramp, but he wouldn't have stopped touching Jemma for anything. 

“Perfect, so, bloody perfect, baby girl.” Once he started talking Fitz couldn't stop. All he could do was hope to keep his voice soft. “Y’ feel so _good_ , can't believe we're- oh!” Overcome by a sharp wave of pleasure, Fitz nipped at Jemma's shoulder and tightened his fingers in her hip as he tried to will himself away from orgasm. 

Jemma gasped, loudly--both at Fitz’s words against her ear and the sharp nip of his teeth at her shoulder. It sent a bolt of pure adrenaline through her, her heart skipping a beat as she worried that she’d been too loud, but it mixed with the pleasure to create an intense high. Her feet stuttered forward an inch and her legs trembled as she felt the first waves of her orgasm start to build.

She pushed away from the wall, even more into Fitz, wanting as much of him as she could get before she went over the edge. “Fitz, Fitz,” she babbled in a breathy whisper, “god, I’m so close, _so_ close, you’re so good, more--I’m--I’m-- _mmm--”_

Jemma had to bite down on her lip again as she came in order to muffle her wail, so hard she almost drew blood. It was powerful, Fitz’s continued thrusts drawing her release out and making her entire body shudder once with the strength of it.

Feeling the tremors run through her body, Fitz caught Jemma against his body, holding her close as her orgasm broke over her. A distant part of his brain wondered if he'd ever felt her like this, but it was chased away by his own impending release. 

With a low growl, Fitz wrapped his arms around Jemma and gave himself over to it, shuddering against her back as he came. He felt his own legs go shaky and reached out just in time to catch his balance against the wall, saving them both from tumbling to the ground. 

They stood there for several minutes, both of them just trying to catch their breath, as Fitz peppered Jemma's shoulders with kisses. He chuckled as he took a half step back, his hands gently skimming over Jemma's back and sides, simply for the pleasure of being able to do so. 

“Chris’” he murmured, unable to manage more than that soft oath. “That was-” Fitz fumbled for the right word, but he hadn't recovered enough to quite manage it. Instead he turned Jemma gently to give her a kiss. “I'm suddenly regrettin’ not doin’ that sooner,” he confessed between kisses. 

Jemma hummed softly in reply, readjusting her bra as he kissed her. She felt thoroughly debauched at least, that was for sure. Her bottom lip felt tender from having been bitten so hard, which Fitz's gentle kisses soothed over. Her legs still felt shaky and rubbery from a really good orgasm, and her lower back was a little stiff from being bent over like she had been. She was far from complaining, though, and smiled against Fitz's lips as he kissed her again. 

“That makes two of us,” she murmured, then reached down to pull her knickers and jeans back up over her hips. Then she pressed a few light kisses over his cheek. “That was bloody amazing. _You_ were amazing.” 

He'd been caught up watching Jemma as she got dressed, eyes lingering on the curve of her hip. It was impossible to tell in the nearly non-existent light of the storage closet, but he thought he could make out the faint beginnings of bruises there, and the primitive part of him crowed a bit as a result. He at least had the grace to blush at her compliment. 

“Y’ make it easy.” Fitz was sure he looked like a lovesick fool as he said it, but it was the truth. He took care of the condom, wrapping it in a spare sheet of printer paper to throw out as soon as he could, and pulled up his own boxers and jeans. He did what he could to make himself presentable, but he was sure it was a rough job at best. His flushed cheeks and shit eating grin would give him away. 

That pride faded a bit when he realized he perhaps shouldn't have been so rough with her, given the appointment she had. “I wasn't too rough? I, uh, I might have gotten carried away a bit.” 

Jemma breathed out a short laugh, and the smile she gave him bordered on sly. “No, you weren’t,” she reassured him, pressing a hand to his chest and leaning up to give him another lingering kiss. “You were perfect.” There was no doubt the doctor would know what she had recently been up to, but she refused to be ashamed. Like she had told Fitz the night before, there was nothing that said she couldn’t have sex right before an IUD insertion, and she’d seen no reason to refrain.

Once she finished tucking her blouse back in, she went to the door and pressed her ear to it, listening for the sounds of anyone moving around outside, then turned back to Fitz. “Should we leave separately?” she whispered. “Just in case?”

Fitz nodded, stepping away from the door. “Y’ go first. I'll be right behind y’.” He watched Jemma slip away and began counting. Once he reached 100, he opened the door and ducked out as well, binning the bit of paper in his pocket as soon as he was able. 

He thought about going back to his station to work, but something else was on his mind. He veered away and went to stand next to Jemma, grateful that the lab was still mostly empty of people. “I was thinkin’,” he began once he had Jemma's attention, “about this afternoon. I know- I mean I googled- It just, ah, it can hurt, sometimes. Right?” Fitz had a feeling he was bumbling this badly, but kept going, knowing he was too far in to quit. “So I was just wonderin’ if there was somethin’ - anythin’ - y’ wanted me t’ pick up for later.”

Jemma looked up from her computer over at him, fighting a small smile. Bless him, he really was a dear. “Right, it can,” she said, nodding. “I’m hoping it won’t be necessary, but just in case, a few tablets of naproxen should be enough to cover any pain that arises as a result. Oh, and maybe a heating pad for any other cramping. We should have both of those in the storeroom.” So he wouldn’t think he was worrying too much, she reached out to squeeze his hand. “Thank you.”


	27. Chapter 27

When it was time for her to finally leave for her appointment, Jemma cleaned up her workstation and logged out of everything, then headed over to Fitz at his station. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and told him she’d see him later, then headed to the hangar to check out one of the many SUVs they had.

What followed was a quick and not nearly as painless trip as she would have hoped. The procedure went smoothly, but involved a bit more discomfort than Jemma had anticipated. The doctor told her it wasn’t uncommon and was nothing to worry about, and advised her against rough intercourse for perhaps the next week or so in order not to exacerbate the pain. Jemma laughed weakly and assured the doctor that would not be a problem.

She drove back to the Playground with a bit of a frown on her face, biting back the pain of what felt like slightly worse than normal period cramps, and once she arrived, went back to her bunk hoping Fitz had that naproxen and heating pad ready for her.

Fitz did his best to keep his mind on his work and not on Jemma, but struggled mightily. When she was there his mind was filled with images from the storage closet, and after she’d left he worried about her appointment and whether or not he should have insisted on driving her. He reminded himself that insisting would have only upset Jemma. Fitz rushed through the rest of his work, finishing up with more than enough time before his girlfriend was due back. 

He stopped by the medical storeroom and appropriated the heating pad and bottle of naproxen Jemma had requested, dropping them off in their bunk before heading to the kitchen. He was too nervous for a proper meal, but knew he’d be grouchy without some kind of food in him. He settled for a quick sandwich, scarfing it down over the sink in two minutes flat. Fitz made Jemma a sandwich, too, wrapping it carefully to bring back to their room before cleaning up, and grabbed a sleeve of the gluten free biscuits she liked, too. He had planned to make her tea, but thought that might wait until she actually got home. 

Fitz carried his goods back to their room, stacked them on the dresser, and settled himself against the headboard to wait. He considered watching TV but wound up flipping through his tablet instead, browsing articles while he waited. After what felt like forever the door finally opened, causing Fitz to sit bolt upright. He swung his legs off the bed when he saw the way Jemma was walking, clearly in pain, and went over to her. 

“Jemma,” he said, more than a little worried, “I thought y’ said it wouldn’t be that bad.”

Jemma frowned as the door swung shut behind her. She thought she’d been doing a good job of masking her pain, but evidently more of it was showing on her face than she thought. “Oh, I’m--I’m fine,” she said thinly, though she leaned into him when he drew near, instinctively seeking out the comfort he provided. “Just a little discomfort. The doctor said that’s to be expected.” 

She grimaced, though, as a particularly strong cramp wrenched her abdomen, and she dropped her purse next to the door before gently elbowing Fitz aside. She wanted nothing more than to change into her pajamas and crawl into bed, though right now she would settle for whichever one was closer. That happened to be the bed, and she walked to it with one hand pressed to her stomach before climbing onto it fully dressed, then curled up on her side with a sigh. 

Fitz watched, frowning, as Jemma made her way to the bed. She wasn't moving with any of her usual lightness, which would have worried him in and of itself. He waited a beat, trying to decide what to do next, before he settled on crossing over to her. Moving carefully so he wouldn't jostle her too much, Fitz loosened and pulled off her shoes, leaving them next to the bed. He grabbed the medicine next and left it on the bedside table next to Jemma before getting her a bottle of water from the mini fridge they kept tucked into a corner. 

“Take some,” he encouraged, tapping a dose into his hand and offering it to her. “It'll help.” Fitz waited until she'd taken the capsules from him then reached for the heating pad. He plugged it in and tucked it against Jemma's stomach, seeing the way she'd curled in on herself. There didn't seem to be much more he could do, so he settled for petting her hair. 

“I made y’ a sandwich,” he said after a few moments of silence. “And brought some o’ your biscuits. Wasn't sure if you'd be hungry or not, but they're there if y’ want them.”

“You’re lovely,” Jemma murmured, eyes closed, concentrating on the slow passes of Fitz’s fingers through her hair. The rhythmic strokes were soothing and were helping a great deal, even if it was just a placebo. Having him close by and willing to comfort her meant a great deal more than anything else, anyway. “I might try eating in a few minutes, once the medication has kicked in. Hopefully. Until then…” She hugged the heating pad against her stomach, praying that its warmth would help loosen her muscle and lessen the pain soon.

It took several more minutes of Fitz sitting beside her on the bed, running his hand through her hair, and of her feeling fairly miserable and useless--she’d always dealt with pain much better than this--before the naproxen had finally dulled her cramps to a somewhat manageable level and she felt good enough to sit up and eat her sandwich. She kept the heating pad switched on and folded against her stomach, and took care while eating not to get crumbs everywhere. Normally she abhorred eating in bed, but she could ignore her own rules for this.

“Thank you,” she said after she swallowed down her last bite. “You’ve been very thoughtful. Now I just have to convince myself to get up long enough to put on my pajamas.”

“Skip 'em,” Fitz said without thinking how it might sound. “Seriously, not like it's anythin’ I haven't seen, and it'll be easier t’ just crawl into bed.” He gathered the few napkins she'd used and tossed them before coming back to stand at the edge of the bed. “Or, if y’ tell me which set you'd like, I can bring them over. Your call.”

Jemma’s eyes widened a little as she watched him throw her napkins away. It was an awfully tempting thought; just the idea of having his bare chest pressed against her equally-bare back as they drifted off to sleep was quite nice. Fortunately, the doctor had provided her with a pantyliner to help with any spotting for the first day, so that was taken care of. And really, the thought of having that skin-to-skin contact was just too irresistible. 

“Oh, sod pajamas,” she mumbled, reaching up to start undoing the buttons of her blouse. “For tonight, at least. It won’t hurt to go without them.” She managed a smile for him. “And like you said, it’s not anything you haven’t seen before.”

She set aside the heating pad so she could shimmy out of her jeans and socks, then tossed both them and her blouse toward the end of the bed. Her bra was added to the pile once she unhooked it and slid it down her arms. “Put those in the hamper for me?” she asked as she slid beneath the covers, bringing the heating pad with her.

Fitz grinned at her soft oath and began undressing as she did, leaving himself in just his boxers. He tossed their dirty clothes in the hamper, hung up what could be used another day, and shut off the overhead light. He turned on the bedside lamp as he passed into the bathroom, knowing that while it was too early to sleep, the bright light would be too much at the moment. 

He made quick work of brushing his teeth, then Fitz loaded Jemma's toothbrush with a bit of toothpaste and carried it to her, along with a cup to rinse and spit. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “I thought standin’ at the sink might be a bit much, but this’ll be better than nothin’. Plus, y’ won't wake up feelin’ nasty if we end up driftin’ off unexpectedly.”

Jemma laughed softly at his attentiveness as she took the toothbrush from him. “Thank you, Fitz,” she said, sitting back up and smiling at him. She made quick work of brushing her teeth too, then rinsed and spit into the cup he held out to her. She felt a little bad as he took it back to the bathroom to wash out in the sink, knowing he was doing her dirty work for her, but she knew she would do the same for him if he wasn’t feeling well.

By the time he came back out, she was burrowed beneath the blankets again, lying on her side and hugging the heating pad to her stomach once more. The heat was doing a lot for her cramps, but she knew she’d feel a lot better mentally once Fitz was curled up around her back. She might not admit that out loud, but his presence always did wonders for her mood. 

With the essentials of their nighttime routine out of the way, Fitz padded back into the bedroom and slipped beneath the covers. He scooted as close to Jemma as he could, lining up his hips with hers and pressing his bare chest against her back, but hesitated to wrap his arm around her. He'd typically hold her low on her belly, but with cramps that might not be the best. 

Fitz eventually settled with his arm higher on Jemma's torso, just above the heating pad, and laid a line of kisses against her shoulder. “How's this? Not too tight?” He thought his positioning was okay, but he'd move wherever Jemma put him. 

His arm position felt a little strange, so Jemma threaded her fingers through his and brought both their hands to rest on top of the heating pad, square over her stomach. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind the warmth too much. Fitz had always put off a lot of body heat himself, reminding her of a small furnace; she leaned back into him a little now, relishing in the softness of his skin against her back and his lips on her bare shoulder. She felt loved and cared for, and that more than anything helped her mood. It didn’t ease her pain, but it at least put her in a better frame of mind to deal with it.

“This is perfect,” she said, adjusting their entwined hands a little bit and snuggling back more into him. “You’re far too good to me. I couldn’t ask for better after care.” She closed her eyes and smiled despite her discomfort, grateful for Fitz and his love.

Fitz hating seeing Jemma in pain, particularly when he felt like he was to blame. He'd been the one to suggest looking at alternative birth control, after all. Being able to take care of Jemma, even in small ways, made him feel a bit better about it. “It's only fair,” he answered, nuzzling at her neck and snugging his arm a bit more tightly over the heating pad. “Y’ kinda got the rotten end o’ this deal, baby girl.” 

He began to play with her hair with his free hand, using the feeling to calm himself while hoping it did the same for her. While he knew it wasn't the worst pain she might experience, and it would certainly be worse when they started a family one day, it still didn't sit right with him. Fitz settled for kissing Jemma where he could, trying to ease her discomfort by being as gentle as possible. 

“Oh, I don’t think of it that way,” Jemma replied, continuing to smile as she felt Fitz’s lips dot over her skin. “It’s just a bit of discomfort for a wealth of benefits in the long run. It’ll pass, and I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t mention the fact that soon they’d be able to have sex without him needing to wear a condom, which she was desperately curious to experience. She knew it would affect him more than it would her, but she still couldn’t wait, and was impatient for the next week to pass in a hurry.

Jemma was content to lay there for awhile, talking to Fitz about all the work she was wrapping up in the lab, while he continued to play with her hair and press the occasional kiss to the back of her shoulder or neck. The naproxen had well and truly kicked in, and the heating pad coupled with Fitz’s natural body heat had her feeling like she was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth. It wasn’t long before she started zoning out, spaces lengthening between her words, and she fell into a light doze, her hand still curled around Fitz’s resting against her stomach.

Fitz felt the moment Jemma dozed off, her breathing going deep and even. He held her like that for a long while, content to simply hold her and serve as a second heating pad. His mind drifted away from the lab work they’d been discussing to the future they had planned. He still needed to call his mum - something he’d handle first thing in the morning, once he knew Jemma was feeling more like herself again. She’d likely be annoyed he hadn’t called straight away, but she’d get over it when she heard he was coming home. Even more when she heard he was bringing Jemma with him. 

His mum had always liked Jemma, even after their breakup, and had been over the moon when she heard they were back together. Fitz was certain she’d be nagging them about getting married and having babies next, and he found himself smiling. It was years down the road, but just knowing it was coming filled him with a sense of peace. 

Fitz was getting sleepy himself, his body giving in to the warmth of their bed and having Jemma pressed so close to him. He untangled their fingers to reach for the lamp, causing Jemma to stir. She went back to sleep as soon as he shushed her though, and once the light was off, Fitz followed suit, snuggling down against Jemma’s back as visions of the future danced behind his eyelids. 

Jemma slept well for the most part, at least for a little while. Her sleep was dreamless and Fitz was a comforting presence as he always was. But the heating pad had an auto-off feature as a safety measure, and her medication wore off during the night. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, not too long before her alarm usually went off, the cramping returned with a vengeance, bad enough to wake her up. At first, she grit her teeth and tried to bear through it, reasoning that if she could get back to sleep, it wouldn’t be so bad. But the cramps only got worse, and she was afraid that if she shifted around too much, she would wake Fitz up.

So she slowly crawled out of bed, taking care not to disturb Fitz too much, and hobbled toward the bathroom. Thankfully, Fitz normally slept like the dead, and he hardly moved at all, only making a short, soft whuffling noise as she got up. In the bathroom, she got a small glass of water and downed another naproxen, then quickly went back to bed and switched the heating pad back on, hugging it against her stomach again. She couldn’t wriggle back beneath Fitz’s arm without waking him, so she had to settle for just his nearness. Sighing, she closed her eyes and hoped the medication and the heating pad would work their magic soon.

But they only helped a little. The pain was so great that she was only able to fall back into a fitful doze. When her alarm went off, signaling the usual start of her day, she reached out to slam her hand down on top of it, turning it off, then sank back down beneath the blankets with a sour, pained grumble.

Fitz usually didn’t bother to do much more than crack an eye when Jemma’s alarm went off, content to sleep a few more minutes while she did her business in the bathroom. He was set to do the same that morning, until he heard Jemma’s grumble and felt her settle back onto the mattress instead of getting up like he expected. He scrubbed at his eyes and looked over at his girlfriend, his heart sinking when he saw the pained look on her face. He had a feeling she’d be staying out of work today, although he knew better than to suggest as much at the moment. 

Instead he just slipped out of bed and went about his usual routine, taking a quick shower and getting dressed without turning on the bedroom lights or making too much noise. When he was ready to go, he brought the little bottle of medicine over to Jemma’s bedside table, leaving it there with a few bottles of water. Taking care not to accidentally sit on her, Fitz perched at the edge of the bed and reached out to brush her hair back from her forehead. 

“Take your time today, yeah?” he whispered, smiling down at Jemma. “I’ll tell the others you’re sick and won’t be in. I’ll come back t’ check on y’, so just text me if y’ have any requests.” Fitz knew logically that Jemma would be just fine, but he still found himself making plans to hurry through his work so he could get back to her sooner. 

Jemma made a quiet noise and reached one hand out from beneath the blankets to wrap her fingers around his wrist in lieu of giving him a hug. “Thank you,” she murmured groggily, then winced. “I’m sorry. I just...don’t feel one hundred percent today.”

Once he was gone off to the lab, she tried her best to relax and catch up on the sleep she’d missed by having her rest interrupted by the cramps. But, the cramps still remained despite the medication and heating pad, and she missed having Fitz with her, so she ended up hugging the pad while curled up in the fetal position and frowning miserably for at least an hour or so. After that, she gave up on sleep and switched on the television to at least have something to occupy her mind. She settled on Animal Planet, of all channels, to watch reality shows centered around veterinary practices because it reminded her of her parents. 

At some point, she managed to get up and put on her camisole and sleep shorts, because she felt guilty about essentially lounging in bed naked. On the way back, she snagged the sleeve of biscuits Fitz had stolen from the kitchen the night before and decided it wouldn’t kill her to eat some in bed. As their usual lunch hour approached, Jemma started to sneak glances at her phone. She hadn’t gotten any texts from Fitz, but reasoned that he’d been busy, and rightfully so. They had a lot of work to do before they left. Thinking about that made her sink down further in bed in guilt, clutching the heating pad as another wave of cramps went through her, and she dimly wondered if maybe she just needed to power through it and go to the lab anyway. Checking the time, she took another dose of naproxen and flopped back against the pillow, the packet of biscuits crinkling next to her. She was a mess.

The first thing Fitz did after leaving their room was check the time. Running the numbers, he decided it was a safe time to try calling his mum; she’d likely be sitting down to her afternoon tea and would pick up when she saw him on the caller ID. As he predicted, his mother gave him hell for not telling her sooner, but it quickly gave way to excitement that they’d be moving closer to home. Fitz asked her for recommendations on realtors in the area, more than happy to give her something to focus on instead of asking why he hadn’t called sooner. He chatted with his mum for a few more minutes about their future plans - including a pointed question about whether or not he’d need his grandmother’s ring - before he managed to excuse himself to get to work. 

Fitz applied himself to his lab work wholeheartedly, moving through files at a breakneck pace. For the first time in days the pile he had mentally labeled as “For Mack” was larger than his “To Do,” and he felt that he could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Just as he was contemplating whether he’d be able to handle some of Jemma’s files too, his stomach gave a grumble. He blanched as he checked the time, seeing how late it had gotten without even texting Jemma. 

He considered texting her before taking his lunch, but ultimately decided against it in case she had managed to fall back asleep. Instead he simply stopped by the canteen, picked up their usual orders, and carried it back to their bunk. He stuck his head through the door, and seeing Jemma was awake, gave her a wide smile. 

“Hey. How're y’ feelin’?” He shut the door behind him and held up the food. “I brought lunch, if y’ want it.”

Jemma lifted her head at the turn of the doorknob, and smiled, struggling to sit up while holding the heating pad to her stomach, as Fitz came in.

“I've definitely been better,” she said, holding out her hands to take her sandwich from him. “I haven't had a shower yet, I only just put my pajamas on, I've got biscuit crumbs all over the bed, and I'm watching reality TV.” She gestured at the television. “Though the cramps have eased a bit.”

She smiled again as she inspected the sandwich; it was her favorite. “Thank you for this,” she said warmly. “I was just starting to think about getting dressed and coming out to the lab or the kitchen myself.”

His eyebrow twitched up a bit at hearing Jemma's nonchalant acceptance of crumbs in their bed. That didn't sound like his girlfriend at all. Fitz kept that to himself, though, merely making a mental note to shake out the sheets later if Jemma didn't beat him to it. 

“Crumbs don't hurt anyone,” he told her as he settled himself on the mattress with his own sandwich, “and I'm happy t’ bring lunch. No one else I'd rather eat with, after all.” Fitz gave Jemma a little wink and a nudge before tucking into his own sandwich. He chewed his mouthful and swallowed before telling her about his morning. “I called my mum. You're right, she's thrilled we're comin’ back. She's goin’ t’ have a look at realtors for us and let me know who we should be talkin’ t’.” 

“See? I told you she’d be happy.” Jemma smiled again before taking a bite of her sandwich. “We’ll probably have to fend her off with sticks the first several months we’re back. My parents, too, honestly, but especially your mum, as she’ll be closer.” But she didn’t sound too particularly perturbed. She was too excited by the idea of going back home and carving out a life for themselves to be overly worried about their parents being too intrusive.

“Also, finding us a realtor will be such a big help,” she added after she swallowed another bite. “That way we can have one ready to go with options as soon as we get there, and we won’t have to waste time. We can start looking at places right away.” She shot him a small smile over her sandwich. “I can’t wait.”

She let her mind drift off into a bit of a daydream as she ate the rest of her sandwich, thinking ahead to what might await them in Scotland, going over the pros and cons of living out in the country, picking out her preferred wishlist for any cottage they would put on their must-see list, and dreaming of what it would be like to finally settle down. It was enough to keep a light smile on her face, at odds with the painful cramping still riddling her stomach, but at least she was in a better mood.

As soon as she was finished with her sandwich, she wadded up the wrapper and set it on the nightstand, before fastidiously brushing away all the crumbs. Then she frowned and reluctantly stood before attacking her side of the bed, trying to get rid of all the biscuit crumbs she’d let accumulate over the course of the morning. Once she was satisfied the bed was clean again, she gave Fitz a sheepish look and crawled in once more, lying on her side facing him with the heating pad back in place.

Fitz watched as Jemma went through her routine and tried not to laugh. For someone as fastidious as Jemma, it was likely killing her to lounge around in bed all day in her pajamas, crumbs dotting the bedclothes. He managed to keep his laughter underwraps but still gave her an adoring smile as she settled back onto the mattress next to him. He set his own wrapper to the side, wiped his hands on a napkin, and reached out to brush her hair out of her face. Jemma had seemed to like that last night, and he was more than happy to find a reason to touch her. 

He fiddled with her hair a bit, content just to take a break and be with Jemma. In a few weeks, they’d be back in the UK, and they’d be back to call it home, not just to visit. They could be doing this exact thing, in a bed of their own, in the village of their choice. They’d be planning holiday visits and finding jobs and figuring themselves out, which seemed like an absolute luxury after years of being told what to do by the same organization. 

Realizing Jemma was staring at him, Fitz blushed a bit and explained, “I was just thinkin’ about where we’ll be in a few weeks. About how nice it’ll be t’ settle in and get into the flow o’ things again.” He smiled at Jemma once more and scooted down the mattress so he was face to face with her. He gave her a soft kiss, not wanting to press her too much but unable to go without touching her, either. Even with her hair a mess, in a tanktop and shorts and lying in a mussed bed, she was irresistible to him. 

“Do y’ want some help into the shower before I go back t’ the lab?” Fitz wasn’t sure how comfortable she was with standing, but he had a feeling it might help. “The heat from the water might make y’ feel better, if you’re up t’ it.”

Jemma beamed at Fitz, happy to have him down on a level with her, facing her, where she could brush her nose against his and feel close to him. She grabbed both his hands and held them between them, giving them a gentle squeeze. “You’re right, a shower would probably do me some good,” she said, then sighed. “It’s a shame we don’t have a tub. A nice hot bath would be lovely right now.” She sighed again, silently bemoaning the Playground’s lackluster bathroom appointments, before giving Fitz another quick kiss and pushing to sit back up.

“I was thinking about Scotland, too,” she said as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, waiting for him to stand and come around to her side. “Basically the same things you were. It will be strange, won’t it? Being able to set our own schedule, live a normal life. But I think that has its own brand of excitement to it, after everything we’ve been through.” She smiled up at him and held out her hands for him to take and help haul her to her feet.

Fitz crawled off the mattress after Jemma, opting to go off the same side of the bed so he could drop another kiss on her shoulder before helping her out of bed. She was still a bit stiff but seemed to be moving more easily, which made him feel much better. He hadn't been able to shake his guilt entirely the night before, and it began to ease as he helped Jemma into the bathroom. 

“It will be,” he agreed as he turned away from Jemma and toward the shower. Fitz could hear her strip down and did his best not to be overly aware of it, though it proved difficult. He managed by focusing on moving Jemma's shower things into easy reach so she wouldn't have to bend too much, and waited for her to climb in. “We'll make sure we get a place with a tub, yeah? One that's big enough for two, t’ go along with your double vanity.” 

Jemma twisted the taps to turn the water on, then hurried out of the way of the jet of water. While she waited for it to warm up, she came back over to stick her head out of the door and smile impishly at Fitz.

“I’ll put it on my list of must-haves,” she said, and kissed the tip of his nose. “It’s also a shame that you can’t come in here with me, but I know you have to go back to the lab. I won’t keep you.” She gave him a proper, lingering kiss and another smile before ducking back into the shower. “I’ll see you this afternoon,” she called out.

She took her time washing her hair, grateful Fitz had put her shampoo and conditioner within easy reach. The hot water eased the stiffness out of her lower back, and once she turned around to let the stream hit her stomach, she felt like the cramps started to lessen a little as well. She ended up staying in the shower long past when she normally would have gotten out, allowing herself to enjoy the fact that she didn’t have anywhere to be and no obligations to handle for the day, and just tried to relax and feel better. By the time the water started to cool and she finally got out, she actually felt better than she had all day.

After she dried off, combed her hair, and put on some clean pajamas, Jemma felt good enough to sit up in bed with the heating pad still held against her stomach. She kept the television on for background noise, the volume turned low, and got her tablet out to do some reading and a little more dreaming and searching for cottages in Scotland. She also started looking at flights to London, thinking that they would need to book their tickets soon, too. It was enough to keep her occupied for most of the afternoon, though she did occasionally text Fitz photos if she found a particularly nice listing. She didn’t want to disturb him while he was at work, but the urge to share was too strong to resist sometimes. And, sometimes, she’d just text him a simple heart emoji. It was cheesy, but enough to convey that she was thinking of him and loved him.

Fitz’ eyes drifted shut as Jemma kissed him, and he was more than a little embarrassed to realize he whimpered a bit. He wanted to believe he was better than that, that he was made of sterner stuff, but having his wet, naked girlfriend kiss him like that certainly caught the attention of his lizard brain. Particularly when he thought about the last afternoon they’d taken to themselves and how they’d spent it. He groaned when Jemma pulled away, but kept himself to only a moment of looking wistfully after her despite very much wanting to join her. Fitz kept himself to just giving her a little wave of his fingers before trudging back to the lab. 

His mind was still on Jemma as he worked, images of her in the shower mingling with his vision of their life together, making it difficult to stay focused. Fitz was grateful he wasn’t working with anything too dangerous or valuable. He did not want to have to explain to Coulson why he was breaking things in the lab, or anyone else for that matter. Despite having plenty to do, he found he was far more invested in what Jemma was sending him, and Fitz found himself grinning down at his phone more than once and starring the listings he thought suited them best. 

By the time the work day was over, Fitz could at least say he made good progress as he headed back toward the bunk, and that had him in a good mood. He considered stopping to get them food again, but held off. If she’d been moving better earlier, Jemma might want to get out of the bunk. He could at least give her that option instead of just assuming she’d want to stay in. 

“Hey, baby girl,” he greeted her as he came in. Fitz noticed that she looked much more alert, a good sign if he ever saw one. He returned her grin and went to sit at the edge of the mattress, just near her knees. “Feelin’ better now?”

“A bit, yes,” Jemma replied, smiling, and reached out to cover one of his hands with hers. She set aside her tablet, too. “You were right, the shower did help. I feel better overall.” She ran the fingers of her free hand through her hair, which was mostly dry now. “How was the rest of your day? Are you close to finishing up getting everything sorted for Mack?”

“Pretty much.” Fitz paused to toe off his shoes, wanting to feel more comfortable, before continuing. “I only have a few more projects t’ sort through, but I think I can finish those in the mornin’. Hopefully before lunch. I can help y’ with your caseload in the afternoon, if you’d like.” He curled his fingers around Jemma’s and gave them a light squeeze before lifting himself off the mattress to change into some more comfortable clothes. 

“Are y’ feelin’ well enough t’ go t’ dinner tonight, or did y’ want me to bring something back later?” he asked as he began to unbutton his shirt, ready to trade it for a t-shirt and hoodie. He knew Jemma appreciated the dress shirts, but after hours he would always default to being comfortable. 

Jemma smiled as she watched him change, both because she was happy to see him and talk to him, and because she appreciated the show. She knew Fitz would never be as bulky or toned as Mack and Trip, or even Hunter, and that occasionally his physique could be a bit of a sore spot for him, but she’d always found his body to be extremely attractive, even when he was a teenager and was little more than a string bean. He’d filled out some since then, much to her appreciation, and she didn’t think she’d ever tire of the privilege of getting to see him sans clothing.

“I think I can handle leaving the room for dinner,” she said, her eyes roving over the dips and planes of his chest and ribs as he shrugged off his shirt. “The cramps aren’t completely gone, but they’re much more manageable now. In fact, I’m due for another dose of naproxen now, and once that takes effect, I’m sure I’ll feel even better.”

To underscore her point, she turned to the bedside table to shake a pill from the bottle and take it with a sip of water from the glass she had sitting next to it. Then she stretched and regretfully switched off the heating pad before standing up. She was going to miss its comforting warmth, but hopefully the naproxen would kick in soon.

“I guess this means I do have to get dressed now,” she said, crossing in front of the bed and squeezing Fitz’s bare upper arm as she passed him. Then she gave him a devilish grin and stripped off her camisole, leaving her nude from the waist up as she went to dig in the top drawer of their dresser for a bra.

Fitz glanced over at his girlfriend, eyes catching on the sway of Jemma's breast’s movement. It still stunned him at times that he got to see her like this, and the odd moments of intimacy that took him by surprise. He usually would have met her teasing remark with one of his own, but it didn't seem sporting when they couldn't act on it. “Probably for the best. Don't want t’ have t’ fight other men off y’,” he agreed, opting for possessive instead of flirtatious. 

He moved past her to get down his favorite zip up, dropping a quick kiss on Jemma's shoulder as he passed. Her skin was still warm from being in bed and Fitz was looking forward to later, when he could join her. He waited patiently as she finished, content to watch all of Jemma's perfect, pale skin appear and disappear again before they went to dinner. 

Jemma was slightly disappointed that Fitz only gave her flirty strip little more than a casual comment, but her attempts wouldn’t always land one hundred percent of the time. Plus, there was always later and the chance to try again. She had to softly snort, though, at his playful assertion that he’d have to fend off other men. She knew she wasn’t ugly by any means, but she’d never had men clamoring for her attention, either. 

“You’re mad,” she mumbled, reaching out to lightly shove his shoulder as he opened up the wardrobe, but she was smiling.

It didn’t take her long to get dressed, pulling on a pair of jeans and a slim t-shirt along with some slippers. Then she kissed Fitz’s cheek before they went hand-in-hand to the kitchen. It was technically off-hours now; she didn’t mind if anyone saw them holding hands in the corridors.

They ran into Skye in the kitchen, who was busy digging in the fridge, looking for something to eat. “Hey, Jemma!” she said, smiling when she looked up at them as they entered. “How’re you feeling? Fitz said you were sick, but you look like you feel alright.”

“I’m feeling much better than I was this morning, thank you,” Jemma replied, going immediately to the cabinets next to the fridge and opening one to pull down two mugs for tea. “I had a small procedure done yesterday and I’m just feeling a bit under the weather.”

Skye wrinkled her nose. “‘Small procedure’? Eww. What kind?”

Jemma gave her a significant look.

“ _Oh._ ” Skye’s eyes widened, and she went back to digging in the fridge. “Ouch. I’m sorry.”

Jemma laughed gently. “It’s fine, Skye. It’s just part of it.” She took her two mugs over to the sink and set them down near the electric kettle, then looked to Fitz, her smile softening. “What do you think you might like to eat?” she asked him. 

“Whatever’s easiest,” he answered, trying not to blush. “I think there’s some pasta and meatballs leftover from the other night. That sounds good, if y’ feel like heatin’ that up.” 

Fitz knew the two women were close, but something about hearing the conversation made him squirm a bit. He knew there was no reason for it logically - and Skye certainly didn’t seem to care - but the openness surprised him a bit. Forcing his mind away from that, and wanting to give his hands something to do, Fitz took the mugs from Jemma and filled the kettle. He fished down two bags of their nighttime, non-caffeinated tea as the kettle heated and gathered everything he’d need to doctor their mugs appropriately. 

He listened in a bit as the girls chatted, chiming in with ideas about what he’d like to do once they made the move to Scotland, but for the most part was content to just be there while Jemma heated their plates. Fitz realized he’d miss this - the easy camaraderie that came from sharing in the same insane events day in and day out and living on top of each other. Yes, he’d have Jemma, but there was something special about having everyone around all the time. For the first time, Fitz wondered if they’d find their cottage too quiet after living this way. Then he remembered all the things waiting for them, and the ways they could fill that home with the sounds of chatter and laughter, and felt his sorrow subside. 

Armed with two hot mugs of tea, Fitz carried them over to the table to where Jemma and Skye had settled. He left Jemma’s mug in front of her plate and slid into his own seat, ready to dig into his meal. He had a fork loaded with pasta halfway to his mouth when Skye interrupted. 

“So, you’re leaving soon. Did you guys find new jobs already, or what? What is the market for genius scientists who have been working in a semi-secret organization?”

Fitz set his fork down and looked at Jemma before turning to Skye. “Honestly, I’m not sure. We’ve been busy tryin’ t’ get everything settled here. I haven’t really looked yet.” He felt his stomach sink as he said it. While he knew they might be living on savings for a while, part of Fitz couldn’t help but wonder what might happen if they couldn’t find work, as preposterous as that idea may seem. 

Jemma could instantly tell that Fitz was feeling a bit unsure, just from the ever-so-slight crease in his forehead. In an attempt to deflect attention away from him, she looked at Skye with a smile. 

“There’s always a market for genius scientists,” she said. “It just depends on what sort of industry we’d like to go into, I suppose. There’s research and development, lab applications, government contracting, private corporations, think tanks, even teaching, if we wanted to do that. I taught at the Academy for a year, so taking a professorship somewhere wouldn’t be so out of the ordinary.” She speared a meatball with her fork and popped it into her mouth.

Skye grinned. “Yeah, I can see you teaching,” she said. “Fitz, I’m not so sure about. He’s too grumpy early in the morning and I don’t think he’d know how to handle his students getting hot for teacher.”

Jemma burst out laughing, nearly choking on her mouthful of food, which was only made worse by the look on Fitz’s face. Struggling to swallow, she said, “Skye, I’m insulted that you think Fitz would have admirers, but I wouldn’t.”

Skye was laughing too, the hand that wasn’t holding her fork clutching her middle. “No, you totally would too, I swear, but you could handle it. Fitz would get all flustered.” She grinned at him, and Jemma looked over to grin at him too.

Fitz set his fork down and looked between Skye and Jemma, eyes narrowed. While Jemma was joking, he actually was a tad insulted that his friend couldn’t see him as being able to handle having admirers. He considered not saying anything, but his pride won out. “Hey!” he cut in, “It’s not like I haven’t had admirers before. I know how t’ flirt. When I’m properly motivated.” Fitz glanced at Jemma and smiled, remembering their night in Dublin when she’d challenged him to pick her up in the hotel bar. He thought he’d done well enough that night and was certain he could do it again. 

“Please,” Skye countered, pointing a chip at him, “you’ve got such terrible heart eyes for Jemma over here you probably wouldn’t realize someone in your class was trying to flirt with you.”

Fitz shrugged at that, failing to see the problem with being so besotted you might not realize other people find you attractive and said as much. “Besides, you’re right. I’m not sure I’m much o’ one for teachin’. I’d rather be involved with practical application.” As he turned back to his food, Fitz began running through all of the laboratories he knew that had locations in Scotland, making a mental note to cross reference their locations with where he and Jemma were looking for a home.

Jemma couldn’t help but smile wider at Fitz’s easy acceptance of Skye’s opinion that he was too head over heels for her to notice anyone else. And then she couldn’t help the thought that flitted through her mind about how she liked the practical application of his hands on her body, and busied herself with a bite of food so they wouldn’t see her face go all dreamy for a moment.

“We might not even have to worry about going straight to work anyway,” she explained once she’d swallowed. “We have a lot of savings built up, and some patents that we could file that can help tide us over until we find something we’re truly comfortable with. We’re not in a bind. I think, with our skill sets, we’ll have our pick of the lot.” She shot Fitz a reassuring look, knowing he’d been uneasy just a few moments before.

“So, could you guys work from home, too?” Skye asked. “Like, build your own mad scientist lab in a spare bedroom or something? That would be cool. Especially if, like, Fitz made it so all you had to do was press a button and it all hid itself away in the closet or whatever.”

Jemma laughed. “Well, that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” She looked aside at Fitz again. “But that depends on whether or not we rent or lease to own, or just buy. We’d have a lot more freedom to do what we like if we buy a home.”

And that got Jemma off dreaming about all the things they could do with a house of their own again. She and Skye chatted happily about house decorating and living in the country, with Skye joking about owning cattle and Jemma trying and failing to plant a garden (Jemma was certain she could cultivate one successfully, being a biochemist and all). They asked Fitz his opinion on things too, and gently ribbed him when he deferred to Jemma’s expertise on some things. Jemma realized that she would miss this too, having such easy access to her friends and being able to share laughter and easy talk over meals, but she knew it wasn’t as if she would never speak to Skye again. She would just have to adjust to having a long-distance relationship with them.

Eating and talking meant she wasn’t as focused on her pain so much, and as they finished eating, Jemma realized her stomach was hardly bothering her at all. That put a renewed smile on her face as she took both her plate and Fitz’s to the sink to rinse and then load into the dishwasher. When she came back to the table, she picked up her mug and took another sip, draining the last of it, and sighed, then smiled at him. “Any exciting evening plans in mind?” she asked him.

Being full, Fitz was feeling content with his lot in life. Things were wrapping up nicely at work, his girlfriend was feeling better, and everything seemed to be going smoothly. Skye had excused herself as the clean up started, and in the quiet of the kitchen he easily returned Jemma’s soft smile, his hand slipping over her knee to give it a little squeeze. “You, me, and whatever it is we decide t’ do.” He gently curled his fingers around to her inner thigh and leaned forward for a kiss. He took his time with it, not really caring whether anyone might have something to say. After Skye’s earlier teasing, Fitz felt immune to it. 

“If you’re feelin’ up t’ it, maybe we could go for a drive. Get some dessert?” He was thinking of the first date Jemma had taken him on after he’d woken up, back when living on the Playground was still new. He’d cocked that up terribly. Maybe now that they were leaving, they could have another shot at that. 

Jemma didn’t immediately sit back, happy to lean into Fitz’s touch and smile at the imprint his kiss had left on her lips. It was the kind of lazy kiss that left her feeling warm and content, and wanting to pull Fitz back to their bunk and curl up with him for the rest of the night. But dessert sounded fantastic too, and after being cooped up in bed all day, she needed a change of pace.

“I think I can manage that,” she said warmly. “I just need to change into some proper shoes, and we can go. Come on.” She stood from the table and held out her hand to pull him up.


	28. Chapter 28

It felt nice to hold Fitz's hand as they walked down the hall to their bunk, and again on the way to the hangar after Jemma quickly changed into her boots and run a brush through her hair. Hopefully the weather was nice outside and it wouldn’t be a bad evening for a stroll. “Do you have anything in mind?” she asked as she plucked a key fob from the rack near the hangar entrance and handed it to Fitz, then headed for the row of SUVs.

He unlocked the SUV, pausing to open Jemma's door for her before going around to the driver's side. “I'm thinkin’ cold. And preferably chocolate. Do y’ want frozen yogurt or ice cream? I could do either.” Fitz turned the key in the ignition and took them out of the garage, his hand finding Jemma's knee once more as they got onto the road. He steered them in the general direction of the city, but didn't bother to put a destination into the GPS. They could wander for a bit and so when they saw something they wanted. 

Jemma had put a hand over the top of Fitz’s, slotting her fingers through his. “Oh, frozen yogurt would be lovely,” she said as she watched the scenery slide past outside the window. “They usually have more options with flavors and toppings, and it’s self-serve.” She shot him a mischievous smile. “Which I know you enjoy.”

It didn’t take them long to find a frozen yogurt shop, and Jemma waited while Fitz locked the SUV before taking his hand and walking across the street to the entrance, enjoying the warm evening breeze. Then her steps faltered slightly as she took in the surrounding shops and recognized where they were. When Fitz gave her a curious look, she nodded up at the sign above the shop door.

“Do you remember the last time we were here?” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “The first date I took you on during your recovery.”

Jemma had long since forgiven Fitz for any trespasses made during that time, but she could still remember the weight of her guilt and despair that night, and how convinced she’d been that she’d ruined their relationship a second time. It was enough to put a slight shadow on her heart, even though Fitz’s hand was warm in hers now and they’d never been happier.

Fitz hadn't been oblivious to where they were and stopped when he felt Jemma slow down. Turning to face her, Fitz took her other hand as well and pulled her close. “I do,” he whispered, feeling heavy. “I know y’ told me not t’ worry about it, but I'm still sorry. I was an absolute ass that night.” He leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers for a moment before brushing a sweet kiss against her mouth. “Can I try t’ make it up now?” 

“Of course you can,” she murmured back, squeezing his hands and leaning up into him, savoring the brief kiss he’d given her. “You know I don’t hold any of that against you.”

She went back down on the flat of her feet and smiled at him genuinely to let him know that she meant it, then pulled him toward the shop entrance. She even pulled the door open for him, giggling when he looked affronted that she’d beat him to a show of chivalry.

They split up to fill their cups then. Jemma decided to have another go at the treat she’d had to abandon that night so long ago, opting for vanilla yogurt with bits of cheesecake, caramel syrup, graham cracker bits, and white chocolate chips. They had strawberry syrup this time, which she added a small amount of, and she was very pleased as she caught up with Fitz on the far end of the condiment counter. She craned her neck, trying to see into his cup. “What’ve you got?” she asked, leaning into him.

“A classic.” Fitz tipped his cup toward Jemma so she could see. “Chocolate with pretzels, chocolate chips, and caramel sauce.” He grinned at her in the hope that his boyish charm might prevent her from realizing that he was attempting to put himself into a ridiculous sugar rush. Fitz pulled out his wallet and paid for their snack before making sure he beat Jemma to the door. He backed into it, holding it open for her as he held his yogurt out to her. “Want some?” 

Jemma had a lofty retort about not wanting to go into a sugar coma ready on the tip of her tongue, but she reconsidered, thinking that with Fitz, it might be a little too on the nose. Instead, she decided to indulge him. 

“Sure,” she said, following him outside with a smile. His boyish charm almost always worked on her, and it did so now. She dipped her spoon into his cup and scooped up a bit, careful to avoid any pretzel bits--she’d never been a big fan of saltiness with her sweet--then stuck it in her mouth. She hummed in approval as the chocolate hit her tongue; it was rich without being overly sweet, and mixed nicely with the caramel.

“Mmm. That’s good,” she said, smacking her lips. She pointed at him with her spoon and gave him a sly grin. “Don’t eat it too fast, you’ll give yourself a headache.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fitz muttered, matching Jemma’s teasing tone as he knocked his shoulder against hers. It was a beautiful night and being away from the base was making him feel lighter, for lack of a better word. He felt as though he could goof around and be silly without worrying about whether his subordinates would think less of him for seeing it. “Y’ know, I thought one o’ the benefits that came with datin’ the team medic was that I got first shot at medical care. Does that mean y’ won’t kiss it better if I need it?”

Fitz wagged his brows at her as he took another spoonful, letting the carefree feel of the evening carry him as far as it could. 

Jemma shot him a mock scandalized look. “Fitz, you know that my oath as a doctor means I have to do triage and prioritize my patients according to who needs medical care the most. I can’t play favorites,” she said as she took a bite of her own frozen yogurt. It was delicious; the strawberry syrup really made a difference. “But--as my boyfriend, you  _ are  _ afforded certain privileges. It means that once everyone is taken care of, you get my undivided attention and as many kisses as you like.” She smiled sweetly up at him before going up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, underscoring her point.

The teasing made her light and happy as well, too. This was how their first date should have gone--flirting, smiles exchanged, eyes alight and hearts full. It brought Jemma more joy than she could admit, having this chance to rectify the past.

“Anyway,” she said, “I think that one of the benefits of dating the team gadget guy is that I get to see how he can really use his hands.” She winked at him and took another bite of her frozen yogurt.

Fitz’ eyes caught on the way her mouth wrapped around the spoon, his mind automatically replaying other instances when he’d seen her mouth bow into that shape. He felt his brow quirk automatically, taking in the pleased glint in Jemma’s eye. Fitz loved it when she was like this and was more than happy to flirt with her. Sticking his spoon into his treat, he sidled closer to Jemma and allowed his free hand to drift across her waist, pulling her into his side. 

“Is that so?” he whispered into her ear, his hand trailing lower to just rest on the swell of her bum. “Y’ know I’m always happy t’ demonstrate. Y’ just have t’ ask, baby girl, and I’ll show y’ whatever y’ want.” Fitz capped the statement by giving her a light squeeze and brushing a quick kiss against her temple, walking with her like that for a few paces more before his melting yogurt necessitated the use of both hands. 

Jemma shivered happily at his innuendo and the tickle of his breath at her ear, and his hand sliding low over her waist and the brush of his lips against her skin. It was the perfect blend of flirtatiousness and bold confidence that always set her heart racing, and it was all she could do to keep herself from stopping him and pulling him into a heated kiss right there in the middle of the sidewalk.

Instead, she smiled to herself as she leaned into him, content to eat her frozen yogurt in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying being out with him. She looked around at all the shops, the other people walking up and down the sidewalk, the traffic on the street, and tried to soak it all in. Then she looked up at Fitz.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to give all this up?” she asked, her nose scrunching a little. “The city life, I mean. I know we hardly ever leave the base, but we still have easy access to all of this here if we want it. Do you think we’ll be able to handle a quieter life out in the country?”

He finished his spoonful and looked at Jemma, considering her question. They'd both been city dwellers - or close to it - for the majority of a decade and then some. Fitz spun the idea around in his head as he decided whether Jemma needed to hear his confident answer or the truth. He settled for something in between. 

“Home is where you're with me.” Fitz shrugged when Jemma looked at him and went back to digging for a piece of pretzel. “Doesn’t matter if it's a city or not, or even which side o’ the world we live on. It's goin’ t’ be an adjustment, without a doubt. And maybe we won't like livin’ in a cottage away from a city, but we'll try it and it'll be  _ our _ adventure. As long as we're doin’ it together, I'm fine with just goin’ with the flow.” 

He smiled at Jemma, looking away just long enough to toss his empty cup and spoon in a bin as they passed, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Together or not at all, right? Same thing here, Jemma. We're goin’ t’ try livin’ in the country, and if we don't like it, we'll move t’ a city as soon as the lease is up.”

Jemma all but snuggled into his hold, smiling as she looked down into her cup, poking her spoon at the last bits of her dessert. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, because I feel the same way that you do--my home is wherever you are.” She glanced up at him to give him a smile that was almost shy, before she looked back down to scoop up a chunk of cheesecake. “But it’s natural to be nervous, isn’t it? We’ve gone over this before. It’s a leap into the unknown for us. S.H.I.E.L.D. is the only thing we’ve known for our entire adult lives. I think we’d be fools  _ not  _ to have some reservations.”

She popped the spoon into her mouth and chewed, then swallowed. Then she leaned away just long enough to throw away her own cup before settling back into the crook of Fitz’s arm, wrapping her own around his waist. They fit together so perfectly; it felt natural and right to be with him like this. 

“But I can’t wait, either,” she added, a grin spreading over her face. “I know I sound like a broken record, and like a contradictory in terms. I’m worried  _ and  _ excited.” 

He chuckled a bit at that, recognizing Jemma's tone from their time at the Academy. It was the same one she had used during finals week when she began color coding all of their notes - for the second time - and had begun to consider which professor might utilize “trick questions.” It was a tone that was purely Jemma, and it made his own excitement grow. 

“Me too. I am a little worried about workin’,” Fitz admitted as he steered them back toward the SUV. “I know we have a plan, but Skye's question threw me for a loop.” That was the thing that worried him most. What if he couldn't provide? Fitz knew Jemma could be the primary breadwinner all on her own if need be, but what if he couldn't even pull his own weight? He gave his head a small shake and tried to get back into his happier mindset. “It's silly. There'll be somethin’, I know that. I just don't like not knowin’ what it'll be.” 

“I understand,” Jemma said, dropping her arm from around Fitz’s waist in favor of holding his hand as they crossed the street. “We’ve always liked to have set plans in place, haven’t we? For the most part, anyway. I know I have. Schedules and knowing what to expect always made me feel better when we were at SciOps. But we’ll be fine.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Even if we can’t find something ourselves straightaway, you know people will come knocking on  _ our  _ door. The opportunity to have minds of our caliber on staff will be too good to pass up for some people. I don’t think we’ll be wanting for job offers.”

“I thought one o’ the benefits o’ livin’ in the country was  _ not  _ havin’ people come t’ your door?” Fitz playfully groused as they climbed into the SUV. He turned the key in the ignition and steered them out of the parking spot and onto the street. “Although if Skye really did manage t’ replace our digital identities after erasin’ us two years ago, I won’t complain. Havin’ t’ forge all those documents would be a right pain in the arse.”

They drove for a few moments in silence as Fitz concentrated on getting them on the right route before he settled his hand on Jemma’s knee once more. “In all honesty, I think if I could get on a plane tomorrow, I would. All the waitin’ is makin’ me a bit batty.” 

“Is it?” Jemma asked, concerned. She covered his hand with hers, the same way she had on the drive there, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I started looking at flights when you went back to the lab after lunch. If you like, maybe we could talk Coulson into bumping up our release date a few days if we can show him we’ve got everything in order and squared away. Then we could book a flight as soon as you wanted.”

In truth, the waiting was driving her a bit spare, too. Eager to jump into the next phase of her life and see what things it might bring them, Jemma was more than a little impatient.

“And we could surprise my parents,” she added, squeezing his hand. “Imagine that. They aren’t expecting us for at least another two weeks. They’d be over the moon if we showed up earlier!”

Fitz nodded in response to Jemma's question unable - or perhaps unwilling - to give voice to what he was thinking. Life on a S.H.I.E.L.D. base was unpredictable. Coulson had promised to keep them out of the field until they were released, but what guarantee could he really give them? How long would it be before some bizarre thing occurred that would require them to go into the field, to put themselves in harm's way? As far as Fitz was concerned, the sooner they could get away the better.

“That sounds nice.” He turned his hand palm up beneath Jemma’s to twine their fingers together. “Maybe, if we're even allowed t’ leave early, we could take Hunter's suggestion a bit. Do a night or two in London, just us. Then a few days with your mum and dad before headin’ up t’ Scotland. That might be nice.” 

“Oh, that would be lovely. I’ve missed London.” Jemma’s family had taken trips to the city often when she was growing up, and she’d hated not being old enough to go on her own while doing both her undergrad and graduate work at Cambridge, just over an hour’s train ride away. Getting to spend a few days there with her favorite person in the world sounded like the perfect way to start off the next phase of their lives.

“How about this,” she said, angling herself in her seat to face him a bit. “We’ll go see Coulson first thing in the morning and give him our new proposal. Then, if he says yes, I’ll put in double the effort to get caught up on what I missed today. I expect I could have everything wrapped up and sorted tomorrow, hopefully. I’m extra efficient when I have a goal in mind.”

She smiled at him sunnily, and was content to let him hold her hand and let the conversation drift to everything he was finishing up for Mack for the rest of the ride to the Playground. By the time they’d checked the SUV back in and walked through the corridors to their bunk, her cramps had made a mild resurgence, and Jemma was eager for what would hopefully be one last dose of naproxen.

She swallowed down the pill with a sip of water as she kicked off her shoes, then started stripping off her t-shirt and jeans, ready for the comfort of her pajamas again. A day of lounging around in bed had spoiled her. 

Fitz took a moment to watch Jemma as she stripped down, unabashed in his admiration of his girlfriend. He smiled and crept up behind her as she pulled her shirt over her head, wrapping his arms around her middle as he pressed his chest against her bare back. He held there for a few moments, rocking them a bit, before pressing a kiss to Jemma’s cheek and going about his own nighttime routine. With them each ready for bed, Fitz cut the lights and slid behind Jemma, curling around her to drift off to sleep. 


	29. Chapter 29

They stuck to their plan for the next morning and were shockingly able to get a meeting with Coulson first thing. The Director didn’t seem at all surprised by their request, even if he was a little less than thrilled. Fitz braced himself to hear a denial, but all they got was a quip about having to rush the cake order for their going away party. They both grinned at that, thanking Coulson for his time and scurrying out of the office to tend to the last of their files. 

“All right,” Fitz said as they walked together toward the lab, speaking mostly to put his own thoughts in order. “I’ll have the last of my projects categorized and ready t’ go by 10. If y’ want, kick some of your files my way - the ones y’ think I can handle - and I’ll work on those, if y’ need me t’. That way we can start seriously lookin’ for flights tonight.”

“That would be very helpful, thank you, Fitz,” Jemma said. “I know I’ve got a lot to catch up on after yesterday, so if we work on it together, we should be able to get it done faster.” They turned the corner to go through the lab door. “I’ll let you get your work finished first, then I’ll see about dividing mine. Good luck.” She smiled and gave his arm a quick squeeze before splitting off from him to go to her work station. 

She put all of her focus on getting the last of her projects and notes in order for her successor. She knew Bobbi would be spending some time in the lab while she went through physical therapy, but once she was fully recovered, someone else would be taking her spot. Everything needed to be in concise order. 

Fitz let her know when he was through with his work and he was available to start helping her catch up with hers. She sent him some of her less complicated case files while she kept the larger ones for herself, the ones that dealt with more staid, drawn-out analyses of samples. When their usual lunch hour rolled around, she felt like she was on a roll and was loathe to break her steady work flow, up to her elbows in reports as she was, so she decided to forgo lunch. She could always have a snack or eat a large dinner later. She was so focused that she didn’t even notice whether or not Fitz went to lunch himself.

It was nearing 5:00 in the afternoon when she finally finished her last report and pushed away from her workstation with a heavy sigh, running a hand over her face. She was finally done. Then she looked around the lab, blinking, as if waking up from a dream. Most of the techs had finished their work for the day and were gone, but she didn’t see Fitz, either.

Fitz, recognizing the signs of a Jemma who was very much engrossed in her work, opted to not interrupt her for lunch. He considered making her a sandwich to bring into the lab but stopped himself when he realized it might slow her down. He let her work instead, plowing through his share at the same time. He finished at half past four and seeing that Jemma still had her head down, quietly slipped out of the lab.

He found what he wanted in the kitchen and quickly set about putting together a light dinner: a green salad, some leftover rotisserie chicken and some roasted potatoes. He left it under cover in the kitchen to keep warm and went back into the lab to see if Jemma was finished. She looked to be cleaning up her station so Fitz went over to see how long she'd be. 

“Hey, all set then?” He smiled at Jemma's quick nod, thrilled that they were one step closer to closing the door on this chapter of their lives. “I have some dinner keepin’ in the kitchen if you're feelin’ hungry.” 

On cue, Jemma’s stomach rumbled loudly. She laughed, a little embarrassed, and pressed a hand to it. “That’s what I get for skipping lunch, I suppose,” she said. “But yes, I’m starving. Let’s go eat.”

She was pleased with what he’d picked out for their dinner, and tucked eagerly into her salad once they were sitting at the table with their plates and drinks. “So I’m assuming you got everything finished, too,” she said around a mouthful of greens. “Now we’ll have to think about packing. I know we don’t have a lot of personal items here, but I still think we’ll end up having to have some things shipped to us. I don’t think all of my clothes are going to fit into two suitcases.”

Fitz returned her smile as he said as he speared a potato into his fork. “I think that's a safe bet, given your sizable shoe collection.” He chuckled as he chewed so Jemma knew he was just teasing. “There's all our personal equipment t’ think about, too. We'll need t’ find a storage unit as soon as we get t’ Scotland, just t’ be safe.

“Good news on the flight front, though. I found a cheap flight out o’ Boston. May said she'd get us there so we don't need t’ worry about a connectin’ flight.” 

Jemma’s face lit up, and she gave a soft gasp of surprised delight. “Did she really?” she said. “Oh, that’s wonderful! She didn’t have to do that. That’s such a relief, though, truly. One less thing to worry about.” She smiled as she took another bite of her salad, making a mental note to ensure she thanked May properly before they left. It was things like that, thoughtful ways the team showed they cared, that Jemma thought she might miss the most.

“And it would probably be a good idea to go ahead and at least start packing tonight,” she added after she finished her salad and moved on to her chicken. “No sense in putting it off to the last minute and then being rushed and panicked and possibly forgetting something. I still remember how you were, moving into our first flat.” She shot him a teasing smile.

“Y’ mean I'm not meant t’ just chuck everythin’ into boxes the night before?” That move had been hell. He'd been so busy in the lab that week - and so prone to procrastinating - that all his belongings had ended up jumbled into boxes and his clothing shoved into plastic bags. Unpacking had been an absolute nightmare, one Jemma hadn't let him live down. “Thankfully I just have clothin’. Most o’ the equipment is S.H.I.E.L.D.’s, so at least I don't need t’ worry about that.”

Even if it was mostly just clothing, Jemma liked to stay meticulously organized--socks and underwear stayed together, as did t-shirts and pajamas. Silks and nice blouses she preferred to go in garment bags or laid out as flat as possible in the suitcase instead of being folded, and sweaters and blazers and all other winter wear were kept separate to themselves as well, too. It just made unpacking easier if you moved in, say, June, and you knew you could leave the box labeled ‘winter’ for last, or leave it stowed away until winter actually came.

“Oh, no, we are _not_ doing that,” she shot back lightly, even though she knew Fitz had just been teasing. “I won’t be spending our first days back home trying to figure out where you put this shirt or that just because you _chucked everything into boxes_.” She nudged his foot with hers beneath the table and ate a bite of chicken with a smile.

Once they’d finished dinner and were back in their bunk, Jemma hauled their suitcases out from where they kept them stored between the wardrobe and the back wall, and set them open on the floor at the foot of their bed. Then she stood up straight and sighed. “We should pack things we’d actually want to wear over there,” she said musingly. “The rest of our things, we can worry about when we get to it.”

As much as he wasn't eager to pack, Fitz dutifully took the suitcase Jemma gave him (that it was the smaller one didn't escape his notice) and began pushing the clothing he thought he'd need. He packed only a portion of his work clothes, figuring all he’d really need them for were job interviews. The rest of his space was devoted to his jeans, t-shirts, a few jumpers, socks, and underwear. He left a bit of room for toiletries, but when all was said and done, his half of the closet was nearly bare and his suitcase sat at the foot of the bed. 

Fitz crawled into bed and switched between watching Jemma pack and skimming through his tablet as he waited for her to finish. He gladly set the device aside when Jemma slipped into bed with him, opening his arms to her. “That’s that then,” he murmured as she settled against his chest. “Pretty much entirely packed up, other than a bit of laundry left over and needing t’ set up a temporary storage unit for the rest o’ our things. And electronics, too, but it’ll take nothin’ t’ wipe the S.H.I.E.L.D. files off o’ those and put them into our carry ons.”

Jemma settled gratefully against his chest, slipping her arm over his waist and snuggling in. She craned her head up to press a kiss to his cheek. “That is that,” she echoed, her voice taking a thoughtful tone. “Our years at S.H.I.E.L.D., done. Off into the wild blue yonder we go.”

She’d run herself ragged in the lab, and still had some faint twinges of cramps left over from her IUD insertion, so she could already feel her eyelids growing heavy. “Love you,” she murmured, yawning. Very soon, they would be on their way back home for good.

She slept well, dreaming of the Scottish countryside and cottages with small gardens in the back, trying her best to tend them, and hearing Fitz’s voice tease her when it didn’t quite go to plan. They all evaporated from her memory as soon as she woke up, but they left behind a content feeling, making her smile as she got ready for her day. 

“So what loose ends do we have left to tie up?” she asked Fitz as she put the final touches on her makeup in front of the mirror. 

“Not many,” Fitz answered as he finished tying his laces. When he sat up he gave her a complete rundown of what he saw that they still needed to do: prep and store the clothes they weren’t taking, box the few pieces of lab equipment that were theirs, and finding a way to store it until they could get it all to Scotland. “I spoke t’ Coulson. He’s givin’ me an SUV so I can go find vacuum bags for our clothes and boxes. Thought I’d get a small storage unit, too, so everythin’ is off base. It’ll be a lot o’ runnin’ around today, but there’s no way t’ escape it, really.”

While Fitz did the running around, he asked Jemma to go through their mobiles, tablets, and laptops to pull any files off that shouldn’t be with them when they left the base. While he had no doubt she was capable of helping him with the heavy lifting, the truth was that he knew she was still a bit achy and didn’t want her to cause herself any more pain, even inadvertently. 

They hardly saw each other that day with the running around each of them was doing, other than a few pop-ins and grabbing a quick bite to each together at lunch, but it was worth it. By the time Fitz had showered and collapsed into bed, they were as ready to go as they could be. 

“Spare clothes are packed away,” Fitz reported to Jemma as she got ready for bed, “along with our personal lab stuff. I gave Hunter the unit number and a copy o’ the key. It seems that once Bobbi’s gotten the all clear from her doctors and physical therapist, they want t’ take some time away. I offered up our place t’ crash if they promised t’ bring our stuff. Hunter agreed.” Fitz began constructing plans in his mind for a quin landing pad near their home, working through whether it might be possible to do without offending any potential neighbors. Any worry about that faded when he felt Jemma’s weight dip the mattress and he turned to beam at her. “But yeah, for the most part we’re ready t’ go. Hardly seems possible.”

“It doesn’t,” Jemma agreed, slipping beneath the covers next to him. “Skye helped me scrub our electronics while you were out today, so those are ready to go, too. She also got us set up with all the documents, paperwork, and IDs we need to get by as civilians again, after she had to wipe us all when Hydra came back. She’s been really busy today.” She laughed quietly as she curled up against Fitz’s side. “I put the passports and IDs in our carryons.”

Smoothing her hand lightly over his chest, she added, “I think it would be good for Bobbi and Hunter to get away for a bit. I’d be happy to have them stay. Any excuse for a visit, and all.” She smiled. “Three bedroom cottage at a minimum, yeah? One for us, one for guests, and one for--um, an office or miniature lab.” The fleeting thought of _for children_ had flitted through her mind, but she wasn’t brave enough to put voice to that just yet. “Or two bedrooms and some type of barn or shed that we could convert.”

Fitz pulled her in against his chest, curling his arm around her shoulders and laying his hand over the hand she had resting on his chest. He hummed in agreement as she listed the kind of cottage they’d need, his smile widening as he imagined it: a tiny cottage nestled at the foot of the Highlands, crammed to the brim with their family and friends. Fitz didn’t miss Jemma’s hesitation and his mind went down the same path as hers, imagining a lab with child-sized equipment for their children to work alongside them. He filed that away for later, for once they were settled and knew they could make changes to their home. 

“Three bedrooms _and_ a barn or shed,” he answered, upping the ante. “Think about it - we could convert the barn into a guest house o’ sorts. Give your parents or my mum their own space when they visit instead of bein’ on top o’ each other.” It would save them a fortune from having to soundproof the individual rooms, too, but Fitz thought it prudent not to say as much to his girlfriend at the moment. 

“Ooh, that would be nice,” Jemma cooed, and leaned up to press a kiss to Fitz’s jaw. “We could all have some time to ourselves at the end of the day, and not have to worry about keeping quiet all night.” Fitz may have thought it prudent not to mention it, but Jemma barged right on through the subject. She smiled up at him as she snuggled more into his side. “It would certainly give you a project to keep you busy for a while on the weekends. Do you think you’d want to do it all yourself, or would you contract it out?” As always, dreaming about their future together was fun, but now that it was so close within reach to becoming reality, Jemma could barely contain her excitement.

Fitz groaned softly at Jemma's observation that they wouldn't need to keep quiet, his eyes falling shut as he pressed his face into her hair. His fingers slipped down to the curve of her waist, squeezing her a bit as he did his best not to get carried away imagining all the sounds he knew he could pull from Jemma. 

“Uh, I'd like t’ do it myself if I could. There's somethin’ nice about usin’ my own hands, y’ know?” Fitz went quiet for a moment, considering keeping his thought to himself before just giving in. “Do y’ think there's somethin’ wrong with me that I find the idea of debauchin’ y’ where our parents might hear incredibly appealin’?”

Jemma couldn’t help the place where her mind immediately went on hearing Fitz say it was nice using his hands, whether he meant to imply the innuendo or not. It very much _was_ nice when he used his hands, and that thought put an impish smile on her face, which only widened when he gave voice to his thoughts.

“Maybe a little bit,” she said teasingly, her shoulders shaking slightly with laughter. “Just think of the reverse--we wouldn’t want to hear _them_ , would we?” She shuddered at the thought, even as she kept laughing. “But I do admit that the thought of trying to keep quiet does hold a certain appeal. It would be like trying to sneak around as if we were teenagers, wouldn’t it?” That was something else they’d missed out on as teens, and while she hadn’t minded at the time, just imagining Fitz taking her hard and passionately, while trying not to be found out, sent shivers down her spine. 

“Not all that different from hidin’ in a storage closet at work, hmm?” Fitz slipped his hand beneath Jemma's chin as he spoke and gently directed her to look up at him. The angle was a bit awkward but that didn't stop him from kissing her slowly and with more heat than perhaps was fair, given the fact that they couldn't act on it. That didn't stop Fitz any and by the time he pulled away, his heart rate had elevated and a pleasant warmth had wound its way through his veins. “We can add sneakin’ around our parents t’ our growin’ 'to do’ list.”

“Not very different, no,” Jemma murmured, her eyes half-lidded. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to climb into Fitz’s lap and lose herself in kissing him, and hated that she couldn’t, but she also couldn’t regret the kiss he’d given her. She never would. They only had a few more days to wait, after all. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” she added, still teasing, but sank back against his shoulder to lessen the temptation for both of them. “Tomorrow.” Then she jerked, startling herself, as she realized that she had gotten ahead of herself, and how her words could have been taken. “I meant--just--leaving tomorrow. That’s tomorrow,” she amended, ducking her head against his chest, feeling her cheeks heat up. “Not sneaking around on our parents tomorrow. _Obviously._ ” She shook her head. “I must be more tired than I thought.” 

Fitz chuckled a bit at Jemma’s correction. He’d picked up her slip but hadn’t taken it to heart in the least. If anything, he took it as a nice bit of insight into just how easily he could affect her with something as simple as a kiss. Particularly after all this time together. He tightened his hold on her the slightest bit and settled back into the pillows. 

“I'm lookin’ forward t’ it, too.” 

That was the last bit of calm they had at the Playground. The next morning was a whirlwind of packing last minute items, showers, double checking they had everything they needed, and goodbyes. Those were the most difficult and Fitz found himself choking up unexpectedly at strange times. Saying goodbye to Skye was by far the most difficult, and he wasn't ashamed of the fact that his eyes were a little misty. He managed to hold it together though, even with Skye's rib-cracking hug and Coulson’s handshake. 

May waited for them at the top of the ramp as enigmatic as ever as she watched the proceedings. Taking a deep breath, Fitz turned to Jemma, took her hand, and gave her a smile. “Y’ ready, baby girl?”

Jemma was still red-eyed and a little sniffly from saying goodbye to Skye and Bobbi, and her sides ached from Mack’s hug, but she was smiling as she squeezed Fitz’s hand back. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, her heart growing warm at the use of his old endearment for her. Taking a deep breath of her own, she looked back around the hangar, getting a last look at everything, and then toward the door leading toward the interior of the Playground. Skye stood near it, along with Trip, Mack, and Hunter, who had brought Bobbi out in a wheelchair. They all waved at the two of them, Hunter yelling something that she didn’t quite catch. Jemma waved back, feeling the sting of tears again, then clutched Fitz’s hand in both of hers as they walked up the ramp on the quinjet.

May gave them a small nod as she turned to head for the cockpit, hitting the button that brought up the ramp behind them. Jemma set her carryon bag down next to one of the jump seats, then sat down in it and started buckling up. “Well, this is it,” she said to Fitz as he sat down beside her. “We’re actually, finally leaving.” She smiled tremulously, more affected than she wanted to admit. The door was closed on a decade-long chapter of her life.

Buckled in beside her, Fitz could hear the whirring of the ramp as it shut, closing them off from the men and women who had been their teammates for the past two years. He knew in a dim, distant corner of his mind that he’d miss them but in the moment he only had eyes for Jemma. That was where his future lay and he could feel pure joy bubble up in his chest at the thought. 

He’d been a far different man when he first boarded the Bus; curious as ever, but jaded and utterly terrified at the prospect of having to work with his ex. Fitz felt as the corner of his mouth twitched up slightly at the memory of how anxious he’d been in those first weeks. Eager as ever to please her and twice as touchy whenever he thought he’d ruined things. Terrified that he’d lost her to something he couldn’t beat. And now… Now he was going home with the love of his life. Fitz gave himself six months, if that, before he came home with a ring for Jemma.

Feeling too much to put into words, all he could do was smile at her and nod. Fitz trusted that Jemma would understand what he was feeling in the moment. The harness across his shoulders made it difficult, but he just managed to lean forward and brush his lips against Jemma’s, slow and sweet and full of promise, as the tarmac dropped away and they took their first step into their new lives together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for coming along on this journey with us and reading! Visit us on Tumblr at eclecticmuses and mrsleopoldfitz, respectively!


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